Writer's Block

sometimes I see the seemingly infinitesimal horizon, seamless and stretching
sometimes I see the thin paper lips of a lungless boy, trying to breathe, trying to smile
sometimes I see prison bars and my words are their prisoners banging their metal cups futilely against their sides
until the paper is trembling and tearing like an earthquake and the lines are streaks of sapphire in a rare stone embedded in the earth
sometimes I see periwinkle veins dripping off the page until my pencil is pumping and pumping and I'm turning pages to see where the veins lead to, but they always lead back to me,
sometimes I see a world of things, other times I see blue lines on a page.

-annals sluder

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