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poems and such
You stare at me
Blank as the clean slate
Of a new day

You long for words
To fill you
Yet nothing comes to me

My pencil rests
In ready position
In my hand

Wanting, needing the words
To flow through the lead
And onto the paper
That lay in front of me


You stare back
Still nothing on you
You're making me nervous
How can I produce
My next poem
With you staring at me
Pressuring me

You want my rhymes
I can't rhyme
You want some
Of my time
But all I can do
Right now is whine

For me
Nothing comes from that
I put my pencil down
And get up
Ah ******** it
I'll come back
And deal with you later

bittersweet irish coffee
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