Lost Literature Poem by Ryan McNicholas

Its all stopped
I sit still, thoughtless,
as if I were a rock
covored in remains of
debris and fragments
of a T-Rex's femur.

Holding the lifeless pen
which earlier carved
the paper with a
mind of it's own
with the words of
acceptence and the
art of mind
but it sits
waiting for my helping hand
to guide it to
birth.

The letters and words
jumble in my head,
scattering around
like a game of
musical chairs
despretly trying to
put words togeather.

BLOCK

Like the Berlin Wall
denying access
from the brain down
to the arm and
into the pen.

BLOCK

Stuck and jammed
in my head
like the bone
in a toe
when smashed against
the corner of a
dresser.

And the more I think
the harder it becomes,
random words spit
out like poison from
the mouth of a king cobra
and I keep blurting
them out until
I realize...
I am alive, the pen is too,
I broke down the Berlin Wall,
I shattered the,
BLOCK.