4. saturate

where do i go?

my words don’t flow

like they did

years ago,

and every time

i sit down and try

to tell you the tale,

everything escapes.

the honesty,

the rawness,

the feeling,

i know all the answers

until it’s crunch time,

there’s a poem to jot,

but it escapes my head,

how do i get it back?

it was the pain

that made me

pick up the pen,

so what do i write

when i’m feeling alright?

and how do i make

the emotion hit

the way it once did?

did i box myself in?

wrote my way

into a corner

that won’t let me out,

and i look back

at the empire i built,

afraid it’s cracking,

on the verge of collapsing.

did i blow it all at once?

saturate it with albums

at a record pace,

but now i can’t figure out

what to say.

do i deserve to continue

telling my story?

or will i leave them

constantly asking

“where is he?”

has the crown

been slowly slipping

off of me?

as the written word,

once my best friend,

has turned itself

into an elusive enemy?

what comes next?