Fumbling

Fumbling and stumbling

Over every line and word I write

It’s like pulling teeth lately         

No anesthesia or narcotics in sight

 

What became of me?

All my mind once had is quickly slipping away from me

Like sand in between my fingers

An old man on his last leg is how I’m feeling

 

So freely my words could once flow

That was only three years ago 

S**t it makes me sick to think about what greed did

At the start all I wanted was to give the only thing I had to give

 

Look what I did

Lied to your face

Forgot every artist is starving

Especially the honest 

Especially the ones that aren’t saying what you want to hear

Rather they spill their guts like a good writer would

 

Pray for me, to whatever God you will

I could use the help

I was in hell but now I found Dante’s final layer

 

I’m trying not to stop until I can get out

But I find myself able to speak like a traitor against God

Fighting so hard for strength to move on

With no words on my tongue and an empty heart

As faceless as I can be

Nameless as all who knew me way back when

 

I scream with no words to speak

Reviews

[KAOlmsted]

Clearly not every line, but I feel like I can relate to a lot of this. It used to come so easily, didn't it? Meanwhile, when we try to write what we think other people will want to read, we lose our authentic voice. Obviously, we would like some commercial appeal (if that is our goal) but to conform to what some conventional norm says is marketable and stray from our core beliefs, well, that is the true definition of a hack...and that, for a writer, is the most offensive four-letter word. Keep doing what you do. It works.

-kimmer