Writers Block

Tick, tock.
Sit, and think.
What to write.
Bite the pen.
Look at the screen.
Sip the tea.
Look up.
What to write, about whom.
Invoke help from the room.

Let the wall smash to crimson oblivion,
and show magmatic cracks beyond.
Let soldiers in muddy gloom crawl and cry out,
or charge towards robotic aggressors.
Let lost cavemen wander through ice winds,
pursuing lost albino mammoths.
Let old fishermen die forgotten in homes,
like orphaned tarpon at night.
All of this I can write.
Fingers flick.
Tock, tick.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.