The Lack of

I have a block in my mind that weighs the rest of my body down

Until I am buried beneath the ground

Blinded by my apathy and self-doubt.

The block causes build up in my brain with random strains of words

That mean nothing–

It only cause my nerves to stay in the past tense of things

As I replay days over and over again

Until I feel sorry and sick

From my remembering and retelling of stories that have ended.

I don’t want any part of this collage of faulted thought,

But I can’t erase my mind block.

It overwhelms my ability to remove the piece stopping me

From moving forward–

So I am cursed to relive dead end passages

As I sink farther beneath the beginning.

Listen

Talking sounds more like listening

To bursts of thunder crackling in the distance

Filling the room with static

Until the build up in our space becomes charged with rage–

Until everything has changed–

Until our bodies become nothing but pieces of wreckage:

A chaotic explosion for the barren wasteland

Where our minds are left behind to deal with the aftermath

made by our hands.