Blocked

Poems stuck in the branches
of everyday thought
stories stifled by anxiety.

Calling for inspiration
in the dead of night
yet no muse comes.

Torn and crumbled pages
litter the floor.

Exhaustion takes its toll;
the brain won’t cooperate.
It darts between ideas,
like a cat chasing a laser.

Oh, phone.
Oh, YouTube,
it’s research.

Two hours later.

Kitten videos,
still research.
The mind convinces itself.

Crumbled over the desk,
nothing,
squiggles,
make sure the pen is working.
Splatters form when it doesn’t.

Random thoughts come,
writing them down
because at least it’s something.

Something
is always better
than a blank page.

Kim Sealock
9-1-19

Savior

Breathing gets harder
as he strengthens his grip.
The chest tightens, and
the pulse quickens
the mind races into dark corners.

“Remember the mantra.”
Is whispered under the breath,
eyes close in desperate
attempt to bring the mind
back into the light.

His voice screams
inside the mind,
drowning out all rationale.

The stomach turns.
The throat constricts.
The world spins.

“Breathing Exercises.”
In for four beats, hold for seven, out for eight.

Worlds most relaxing song
makes the walls cave-in.

Grab for the headphones.
turning on hard rock
with meaningful lyrics,
it pours into the ears
and fills the mind,
drowning out the static noise
of anxiety.

With each drumbeat,
he loosens his hold,
airways open,
and the pulse regulates.

Eyes close relishing
in the relief music
has given
as it saves the day.

Kim Sealock
8-4-19

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