nothing I write seems to appease the gods
that I've signed an oath to pour the essence of my soul out to
- it's stronger than pure opium -
the deities' wrath is emerging
and like scorching licks of flame
I feel it burning my flesh relentlessly.
they lash strikes of lightning as incentive
for me to deliver a gem of a poem,
for immortality and rejuvenation
is etched in the words
I let flow from my pen,
and the pantheon drinks it up like their best wine
but I'm still left gasping for air
as I struggle to create like I used to.
-
an semi-elaborate way to say I have some kind of writer's block lmao.
