The cursor blinks
My heart sinks
Remind myself I’m prolific
That if anyone can untangle
Prisoners from this thicket
it is me
Indifferent thorns hold tight
To my ideas, in plain sight
Hopelessly wrapped around loathsome stems
Sitting there stranded
Lost, confused, condemned
Reach in to grab
Harvest a thousand little stabs
Arms yank back, bleeding
Unable to retrieve
Inspiration I’m badly needing
But really, they are just trash
Remnants from projects past
Tape from the editing floor
Revisited and rummaged lazily
To squeeze out a drop more
undeservedly
Musings I didn’t feed
Sickly, blown out on a bone-dry breeze
In desperation late at night
Guided by feeble headlamp light
I visit this shitty little garden
This graveyard
A necromancer
Confusing reanimation for new life
I hate this stupid place
Festooned with my morbid waste
Syggrefaes blockifolium
I want to smoke one down and flick it
Set you ablaze
And all those goddamn teases
That rat’s nest of dead ideas
Along with you