Nothing worse than my powerlessness at loss of words.
Nothing is worse than impotence when I can’t weave those broken sentences into a melody.
Nothing is worse than tearing off pages writ with broken images of absurd situations.
Nothing is worse than my incapacity to indite the sun in my wan sky.
Nothing.
Nothing is worse than poetry’s persisting abstinence from my indulgence.
I just can't get it back.
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