Writer’s Block


The humming of the air conditioner fills the air
as I sit down in this worn out computer chair.
I fidget and stress
as the world outside does the rest.
The unmade bed and smell of days old coffee fills the air
as I sigh in forlorn despair.
Papers both old and new
lie around in wait to be used
but all there is now to do is just lay in the plain ol' blues.
The deadline awaits as my mind shatters in weight.
The ideas flowing but the paper still lonely.
Cracks on the wall connect and gain more interest
than the words on the floor that continue to wait.
The world spins as I think and I wait for my world to come to brink,
giving me hope again that it has come to peace.

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