I had a line but I don't remember

The walls are filled with vomit and

Seeping out all over

It's too bad I've lost my way with words

The poems escape me now in some horrible

Con I brought about then forgot;

an awful drought of thought

God must have cast upon me since I stopped believing

Or

Rejected his meaning in the grand scheme of things

Maybe I just loved you until my blood ran dry

Who knew a phone call could make my stomach fall through

Like I did, clumbsy as a kid 

forgot the Speck's tree house had a trap door and tumbled to the whims of a ladder lying below,

Twisted little limbs bent between its rungs

Knocked down and dumb and then,

Bruises bloomed on the sides of my hips and all across my back.

For weeks I carried them 

As I carry you still.

Reviews

[Gerald Parker]

It doesn't make any difference whether we believe in god or not, we still get dumped on. So I share your standpoint. There is a wee problem with the grammatical logic in 'Who knew a phone call could make my stomach fall through
Like I did, clumbsy as a kid. '

Writing about writer's block can be very productive.

[John]

I used to be terrified of ladders for that very reason.

[wynn]

Those last few lines are absolutely beautiful. I believe I understand this piece.

A destructive relationship brings about an incredible numbness, an indescribable sickening feeling tainted with longing and regret, a vacancy of heart, as if all of our forms of self expression are inefficient...