There are days when my fingers fail to materialise the thoughts,
ideas and emotions that swirl inside my skull,
these moments and components clogged inside me,
lodged within my psyche,
blocked inside to spite me,
I seek a release to create these treasured combinations and clustered forms,
repeat to decrease these mental pressures and storms,
the urge to alleviate this quagmire of ideas,
stagnating whilst nothing passes a brain blockade.

I carry this burden,
this bundle of scrambled phrases and words,
tangled triggers unable to fire,
this feast of feels unable to be consumed by it’s hungry host,
if my words die inside me,
are you reading a ghost?

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