no direction home
.
.
I can’t write anymore
Inspiration has gone out the door
Can no longer deny
Can no longer hide
The crumpled papers on the floor
.
Where once words flowed
Like an endless literary road
Now potholes abound
Bridges have fallen down
Under Nothing’s heavy load
.
A scorching desert, I walk alone
Inspiration merely bleached white bones
Skin burned, lips cracked
One step forward, two steps back
Lost; forever; no direction home
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