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Joana.
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Loneliness strikes me at the block
Of inspiration, of illumination
I feel trapped in a whirl of unknowing
Straggled tightly by the string of the unattainable
Only the grip is loose enough
So very slight enough to allow a breath
And suffocation will not save me from frustration
Leaving me at the state of moribund sickness
Tantalizing my core with the potential
What could be without the weakness
This permanent sloth that overtakes me
And drops me unconscious on the floor
Dreaming in catatonic reveries
Musing of the creations that will never survive me.
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