Writers Block

huddled upon a concrete floor
crouched in a bundle
as if waiting for my rebirth
up from the gutter.

this life has left me silent once again–
draining blood from under the hardened cracks,
a tear comes streaming down my cheek.
like the moon bursting into pieces
on a sunless night.

the craters shown on my face
leave me prematurely old.
as my darkened heart
has turned black and blue.
i begin to weep
laying bare with only my bottle
and machine gun to guide me.

i begin once again.


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