Blues

 

I’ve got the blues but it’s like the colour

has been sucked from the room.

Muddy grey and dark black views

are all I see in the gloom.

I'm stuck in a rut and I've nothing left to lose,

except all I’ve ever known.

I'm walking like I'm in a daze

except I'm watching on from a high up place,

maybe a star sat in outer space,

and all I can see is a man with no inner peace

trying to keep up the pace.

 

I've lost my will to keep pushing through.

I’ve got ice crystals circling my veins,

a heart full of stones, and a head full of pain.

My words are stuck in my teeth

and they grow like vines

strangling the light that lives inside.

I'm a poet without a muse

and I lost my quill 

along with the truth.

 

I need a hug, not just the warm feel of skin,

but that magical feeling

where the whole world disappears

revealing a world of just us,

like atoms or dust dancing together

against a crashing chorus.

 

I sit in this mood as it consumes

every morsel of my being.

I'm entombed in its belly

yet still it chews, still it devours,

piling up more waste

to further sour my view.

I’m a poet without a pen.

My words are bleeding

but I can't get them to make sense.

Just a pool of nonsense

puddling around my essence.

and I'm just waiting for the meaning

to reveal itself like a glimmer of sunlight

breaking through the grey.

 

I need a hug,

not just the warmth

of skin touching skin,

but that blanket feeling of being loved

when your own self love is wearing thin.

Not just an empty embrace,

but that magical feeling when hearts

unzip themselves

and pile their stuffing into one