I feel like my right hand caught a cold and the store is all out of that nighttime, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever so you can write good medicine.
I feel like the left side of my brain sent a text message to the right side of my brain talking about some hot shit to write about, and the right side of my brain had a sidekick and never got the message.
I feel like I was driving down the Poetry highway, trying to exit on Alliteration Ave. and my car stopped because the price of a decent rhyme scheme is damn near as much as gas.
I feel like I was trying to talk to inspiration and creativity at the same time and they found out, both got mad and dumped me.
I feel like writing a verse about nothing and putting T-Pain on the hook and going platinum.
I feel like my thoughts are stuck in my brain like ketchup in a glass bottle and I can’t find a knife to dig it out.
I feel like everybody else writing is so cold that it gave me brain freeze and now I can’t write my own.
I feel like I should be like Lil Wayne and try to disguise biting by calling it recycling cause I’m pretty sure I’ve heard this poem before.
I feel like I'm lock in the cell on D-Riters Block waiting on somebody to break me out...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
that was soo true. i feel your vibe. u should come to my page and give me some advice to make it better. its www.meanshots22.blogspot.com
Post a Comment