Writer's block

The creative mind is now at rest and no longer exist to create words that lead nowhere.

Once the doorway into the world of a demonic fantasy, now a crumbling empire of funny sounding words that mean nothing.

Once upon the time of the flowing rivers of words, now the barren wasteland where grass used to grow.

The silence in the mind is deafening.

The remains of the god are found underfoot spread across the lands.

The master is no longer present to the world he has created. The key is lost.

A figure has been foretold to begin a new world and reality is worth knowing less.

Veins begin to drain once more into the sky above. The waiting is over. Times start again.

I force the pen to write without order.
The mind refuses to tick alongside the heart.

Every word that is spoken leaves bad taste in mouth. The dreams won't come true as easy.

I make a deal that I will twist reality in exchange for another line on the pages.

I pounds against the wall and refuse to go around it. I crack knuckle.

My clouds part and I see the sky again as I painted it. My world unlocks before me and I am real once more.