when i write without words

I am gnashing my teeth, my jaw in a deadlock, at the stubbornness of the mind to produce legible writing. I look from papers, to forums, to changing songs in hopes of stumbling across one to put me in the mood and let my fingers fly. I’ve gotten a paragraph, but that was all 4 hours churned out.

and just a little, I understand his despair for the past few months. When the so longed for and so damned inspiration refuses to peek just a little into the door of the mind, a perpetual constriction of the skull, product of trying to force it a little wider, to think a little deeper, for some, no anything remotely resembling art or beauty to materialise. Every minute nothing surfaces makes the face a little longer, until soon the temptation to thrash the items around you becomes overbearing. My frustration enabled me to search for chocolates and food – and when it failed i tried every distraction so that i can accidentally get inspired. Another frustration bred.

Silence, but the slight whirr of the ceiling fan and the sound of air echoing through the empty room, i crouch on my computer chair, wordless fingers hovering on top of the keyboard. Waiting for miracles on my fingertips.