January 06, 2011

Forcing Myself…

So I have lost my writing ability of late. The ink has run dry and I am forcing myself to cough up words like the last of my bronchitis phlegm. With it being a new year, I shall endeavour to write more in hope it will unblock the well of inspiration. Thus far, I am still experiencing a drought.

You wrote of me
on old pub doors, chipping at the paint
with a yellowed index finger
stiff with arthritis,
toxic dandruff falling into the denim around your ankles,

You wrote of me
in hometown shades of canal brown,
and Spider park grey.

Of me, you blasphemed,
churned my name
until I was lemon curd in your mouth.

“4ever” glittered in spilt blood
across sodden bar tables,
wet with whiskey rings and strippers knickers.


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