Writers Block

they rise up,

like diamonds in a

dream,

begging to be taken,

waiting to be used,

screaming for recognition,

then poof,

they are gone;

never to return;

it’s always something;

time to eat,

football on television,

stomach hurts,

leg hurts,

too tired,

the dog needs to go

outside,

the groceries need to

be shopped for,

it’s always something,

but;

they’re really not interested

in your excuses;

cold little monsters,

killers on steroids,

no compassion,

no mercy,

ice water running

through their veins,

scumbags,

rapists,

torturers of animals,

mass murderers,

calculated doses of

instant poison;

they deserve

everything they get;

it’s easier this way,

nobody to blame,

nobody to pin

the rap on,

nobody to take the fall,

no one pointing fingers;

no one getting any

credit;

one of these days,

I’m going to set up an ambush,

lie in wait as they pop out

from their greasy little

hiding places,

then, BAM! got ya,

you little assholes,

you greedy, stinking whores,

no more havoc for you,

no more of your

pathetic shenanigans,

no more sticking it

in my face,

no more carrots

on a stick;

yeah that’s what I’m

going to do;

just as soon as this movie

is over.

.

.