I think
I've forgotten
how to hold a pen.
Now stiff, decaying,
dead in my hands

What was once beaming, a magnitude of crimson red,
crimson wine,
like an arbitrary light.
a calloused beating,
pounding from the vessels within.
What was once living,
What was once filled with voice,
the white noise
filing every page like a hurricane,
some say they abstain from the wreckage,
avert their eyes from its knowledge.
what was once striking, filled with purpose
and meaning
with every swerve and sweep,
with every slide and scrawl of the black
incandescent ink,
what was once an epiphany,
a statement, like a writers instrument.
a pen,

Now stiff, decaying dead in my hands.

hi hello idk what this is but i do know it sucks so sorry for your eyes alright okay bye

haha writers block sU CKS