ideas wander
careening butterflies
beautiful, stupid, little creatures
ruining my creations
distracting my imagination
I can’t seem to find my mind
sense of regression settles in
my life is moving way too fast
I’ve put it off so long
it changed without me
without my knowing

writer’s block

this temporary blockage concerns me
disheartening non-creation
silly stagnant deluge brings me down
leaving me dryly unfufilled
how long can this last
when does it leave
what form can I look forward to
enormous question mark in my head
a huge blurred patch of dull grey