Poem Eleven (06/13/2025)

My writings are the equivalent of a canine defecating on a lawn

I stare at a white screen, throwing out whatever poem sticks

But nothing, not one is enough to describe the true torment of this experience

Have I lost my edge?

Have I gone mad?

Or was I never really an artist in the first place?

Hours upon hours spent on text that will never be enough

Another day wasted as my lifetime is endlessly ticking

Write you fool! I scream and shout

But nothing, not one is enough to describe the self-inflicted nightmare