This blue rectangle is a cell in which
I stare blankly at a winking cursor.
Its purpose is information (they say)
or for entertainment, arts and music,
and occasionally word processing.
The lack of inspiration, creation,
is a prison all of its own, ye know.
Four walls of mental blocks, stolid, like bricks
and the darkness starts to scratch on my skin.
Mental solitary confinement – a
blackness you just can’t think your way out of.
Thoughts come and go, like light through the cell bars,
unable to grasp them and see where they will go.
Distraction upon distraction abounds,
as the neon blue glow incarcerates
the creative mind in a pound and
it comes, it goes, it rotates and it knows
that cursor stays blinking, blanking the page.
I retract back into the corner of my cell,
waiting for the light to come again.