Writer's Block

You are but a gray form, the deepest and hollowing of grays.

You are a shapeless muddled up hazard of thoughts that refuses to connect after endless sleeps and stalling.

You are an icky goo that sticks like the most irritating of glues. You won’t leave me, even after many internal screams, fights and fleeting insanity.

I refuse to give you any more character. I refuse to give you power. I refuse to let you win.

Yet you win. And I am left bawling contemplating on my future and imminent doom.

You suck.