Lost Words

Mind is cluttered, cannot think, stress of the day
had a drink
want to write, want to think, nothing
nothing comes naturally

normally words spring, picture water from a fountain
now however
nothing comes, as if I climb a mountain
push myself I always will
ask for prompts or thoughts to thrill

maybe I should rest this mind, lay it down
let it rest
for scattered words upon a page
won’t surely be my best
for nothing now comes to me, as naturally as it would
yet I demand more of me, possibly more than what I should

my need to write is nothing knew
I am prolific, of that I have been told
I write one or several every day, this is me
this is who I am, this is… my mould

I’m accustomed to writing in this way
though it’s hard at times to push my mind
I apologise to myself and you for the words
I cannot find

I know that you are watching
and writing what I post
and I have a guilty complex
when I can’t provide that want
my boundaries are endless

no fence can stop my words
though times do come when there
are none

to a ‘writer’ that’s absurd

or at least for me it’s so
I cannot stop, I have to write
I truly can’t let go.