Writer's Bloc

my first poem; written on a somber new year's eve

and it's night again

fireworks

eyes staring out

streetlamps

curtains

searching 

a small clock

a small outlook

the future; what's in it but a dream

for an insomniac, that dream doesn't exist

in that case, neither does the future in those moments

only the here and now

a cold bed

staring

an aspiration

a blank sheet

darkness folds in

as water, when you drown

the path

(walking)

the downcast eye

distant calls

the dream? 

fleeting 

the path?

dirt

future bright

future bleak

once again

downcast.

Reviews

[Kylee]

I love the short, sporadic lines of this poem it really forms the tone I believe you were trying to reach. My favorite lines are "the future; what's in it but a dream for an insomniac, that dream doesn't exist in that case, neither does the future in those moments" amazing writing

[no.cristeaux]

Such a deep review, thank you! Much love Kylee.

k.k.