Some days, it’s easier to burn through pages,
Set them alight with this ink,
Transcribing thoughts seamlessly without having to erase every other letter,
The blueprint is already laid out in my mind as I jot it down,
Connecting the dots,
Or the boxes I keep locked and stashed away in my mind,
An ammunition for the frenzied mind.
Sometimes when I don’t know where I’m going with it,
Words flow effortlessly.
But on days like this,
I sit with legs crossed at my desk,
Amidst crumpled up balls of paper lying around the room untidily.
Much like my mind,
I sit staring blankly at the spinning ceiling fan,
Just looking for that ray of hope,
To dispel this dark disarray I’m wrapped up in.
Tapping the nib of the pen in rhythm against an open pad,
A hand that’s disconnected from the medulla oblongota,
Thoughts barricaded from the inside,
It’s so much harder to put it in paper.
Although everything written is just a microcosm of what goes on in my head,
Penning them all down precisely and immaculately is impossible and irrational,
I do realize that.
But just sometimes,
It’s harder than usual,
And at a loss for words as I keep coming full circles in my mind.
I fall into this slump occasionally,
When my thoughts seem to overwhelming to just pick one topic out of a possible millions,
Ideas, abstracts, concepts;
They fly by in a blur,
Before I can pin them down,
Maybe this’ll be one of those times,
When I’m unsatisfied with the end product.
Maybe I’ll throw this out later, like I did so many others,
Or maybe this will finally help pull me out of my slump.
All I’m doing is drawing a blank,
It’s hard to explain,
Redundancy, redundancy and redundancy,
You’ve done this before,
It’s just not good enough,
You’re just cribbing at this point,
Exaggerating or seeking sympathy.
These are the voices I hear.
But venting this way is all I know,
No, I don’t want pity,
What good’s it gonna do?
It’s not going to change anything either way.
Being vulnerable through this little space I made for myself.
When my guard’s down,
I have no one to turn to,
Except for this little corner,
But even then words elude me tonight,
Just sometimes like today,
I can go through hours on end,
Trying to scour my mind for the right words,
That may best describe how I’m feeling,
To little success.
I feel frustrated,
Wanting to let it go,
My chest feels heavy,
A load I want to set down but I don’t know how,
These corridors of my mind,
They’re a labyrinth,
And the walls are mirrors,
Where do I go from here?
Even through this salvation,
I still have to keep myself in check,
I can’t afford to say something I’ll end up regretting,
I made a promise to myself.
Being overly wary of this sinister pen in my grip,
And being unable to find the words to write something else,
It’s only a matter of time,
When something inadvertently slips out,
A Freudian slip or parapraxis,
I’m being pushed into a corner,
Back to the walls,
Enslaved by my mind.
A daunting corridor lays before me,
The meaning is vague,
Sometimes, I don’t know where I’m going,
I keep writing,
Hoping something reveals itself at the end.
This intimidating hallway stares me down,
What am I nervous for?
This is my turf,
Everything I see around me is a product of my own reasoning,
Rather than run away,
I’m going to harness and decipher these hieroglyphics,
Make sense out of something so ambiguous,
I’m going to make myself comfortable,
Reupholster this maze into my own living room.
I walked you through my mind,
An excursion through the parts I allow you to see,
Only the stuff I choose to reveal,
Don’t stray too far,
You may end up lost in one of those eternal corridors,
I wouldn’t wish that on you,
Not when these hallways aren’t clear even to me.
Not until I figure this out myself,
Take your leave.
You don’t want to stay here for far too long.
Leave me be,
While I try to decipher these markings on the wall.
I don’t know how I got here but,
Until inspiration hits,
Until this accumulated pile of misery threatens to consume me again,
I’ll keep trying to find the right words to better describe this predicament,
In an attempt to break this curse,
I’ll be able to climb out the ditch I’m in.