literature

--Anxiety--

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Literature Text

grip
(the pencil).

grasp
(the tingle of my thoughts).

grab
(hold of the table
and just breathe...
just relax...)
.

it's like pulling hairs
from the back of my neck
to prove that i feel pain,
trying to scratch the itch
out of anxious palms
because pencils rub my skin to shreds
and i can't master my words anymore.

i wish i could just
s-t-o-p
the clock
and let my thoughts flow freely,
but the minute hand is shouting betrayal
and i can't see beyond the marker
coating my fingertips.

grab
(a highlighter;
maybe it'll draw out my ideas)
.

grasp
(the truth:
i've lost my muse)
.

grip
(my life with both my hands,
because my sanity is fading fast)
.

And i wish i could write
(i wish i could make better sense
of the junk filling my head)
...
but the anxiety of unutttered words
is choking me.

(maybe I'm trying too hard...)
ONEWORD!

The (bolded) were added after the 60 seconds was up.

I can't write for shit lately. I apologize. I miss my muse. This is me trying to force something out. I think I may have failed.

September 2009
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Comments15
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TY for this post ....this sounds very familiar ty again