I sit here and think "what to write"
i stare at the blank page
glowing so bright
the white of the screen
the vivid text
i always wonder
what to write next
my mind is adrift
with half written poems
and my thoughts lift
to the sky
and i stare at the blank screen
wondering why

My thoughts are racing
they have passed the clouds
and enter the orbit of
a quick racing planet
as quick as a dove
my writers block has vanished
my thoughts are to quick
so i type them all down
licked split
I am not quick enough
there they all go

i stare at my screen
as though it will change
its almost mean
how empty its seems
so i turn it all off
and retreat to my
home
my beautiful sanctuary
my perfect small dome