Lost in the chasm of
blank pages and blinking cursors,
the mind is either left to swirl
in on itself, spiraling into the abyss.
It tries to block out the
inevitability of an imminent
battle with forces trying to keep
words from spilling forth.
Instead of preparing for the conflict
the mind would rather partake in
hours of empty distractions.
The body is left to wither under a
spell of convenience. It’s much
easier to give into the trance,
the temptation of vibrant
colors, echoing voices, and
flickering static.The mind
digs a grave of its own, all
because of a blank space
too open and daunting for the
mind to fathom. Little did it know
the cure to barren minds lies within
dripping black ink or tapping fingers.
The only noisy chasm cures lie
with the voices to spawn muses.