Three days are gone, alone in my cabin
Not a word is written in these rooms of silence
Writing in a vacuum does not behoove me.
I need an input someone with thoughts of their own.
Reflecting my own thoughts in the mirror
Are unbreakable cycles like a troll under a bridge
That can no longer see the difference between a goat or sheep.
Starve it does not being able to catch rainbow trouts
As laziness seeps into his bones.
Sore is my head from trying to burst out of this encircling
Of the stale, fearful of the new, I must read more,
Work by writers I don’t care for, but has something
Different to say or a new twist of words. I’ve tended to
Read too much, Hemingway.