Writers Block

This writers block, got me speechless, unable to communicate with myself, questioning my health and emotional standpoint, this joint is just a reminder, to always be my own friend finder, life divider and own advocate for striving. I am open to say the least, this beast that levitates in the middle of my very being; to see what I’m seeing through these dreamy brown eyes of mine, behind it all, is the story of a 3 year fall from grace, the dimensions on my face, rearranged into, some strange version I don’t recognize; I don’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t have a genuine smile for such a long while. Maybe, just maybe I died, inside, with the pieces that survived, I create a new puzzle, something that will be the link that causes my soul to shuttle, off this plain to a new galaxy free from the pain, the struggle to regain all that was lost in the fire, the desire, the passion, the dedication, not the lies, suffocation, and spiritual suicide, the feelings that consume me, entirely.

The visual; I am hanging on the cliff by one hand and can see the bottom of the mountain and my grip I am trying to regain. To pull me to safety to the embrace of my friend, who I lost somewhere on the plane trips, to set the reality that exist. This is a gift that I forget that words, when I let go, flow like smooth to rough currents that dive off of cliffs. This is me… the way I feel, what I can’t let go, because my life is in slow mo and I’m going to need that back, in real time, my life is the divine, and the hands that hold it are not supported by the intertwined grasp of the bottom line.

I defied reality and there for my own respect, the personal neglect, which I freely select, has a personality that I will never forget. The hands that reach back from the ages with the passion and rage of all that died and lived for me to be, the best of D, which has been tardy and absent for the semester, I jester as the joke, the only one who is the punch line, chasing my own behind, I refer to a time, long gone and defined trying to hold on.. This writers block got me in a place where I don’t know which way the words will fly, fly, fly, fly, I lie on my back and dream of the points in time when the decision was mine to take and I declined.