Behind The Eyes Poem by Matthew Foor

It is its own type of torture

The loss of words I suffer from

Inspired but unable to express it

Pen fueled and ready to make its mark

To make its move

Across this lonely sheet of paper

But nihilism is all i get

Non-existence of well rhymed phrasing

In need of poetic nourishment

But nothingness wins me over

Chimerical rhythm

Illusional form

And insubstantial meaning

All come together to form a vacuum

Imbiding all that could be out of what isnt

Anguish
Hardship
Misery
Pain

Suffering from that unholy word

For to poets like I,

Its like kryptonite to our livelyhood

Trying to be submissive to my own imagination

To be subordinate to my minds eye

To be acquiescent to what lies behind these eyes

Difficulty turns to uselessness

BUT WAIT!

What is it im doing here?

Without even knowing it...

Those words and euphemisms

They snuck up on me!

Its a f*&^ing poem!

Good lord!

Convincing me that 'writers block' is all in the head

All up there
Behind the eyes.