Reasons I Can’t Write
by Dinan Alasad
I can’t write because I’ve adopted situational denial,
and willful ignorance,
as my new style,
I can’t write because my heart strings,
haven’t been inspired in a while,
I can’t write because all I have to say,
I have stored somewhere in a computer file.
I can’t write because I’ll never have it in me,
to write about you in past tense,
and attempting to find another muse,
just doesn’t make sense,
how can I paint someone else,
in what was for three years, your canvas?
I can’t write because when I try,
I start wondering if you’ve been writing,
and I start reeling and writhing,
at the thought of you rhyming,
about someone other than me.
I can’t write because politics are problematic,
romance is a livid trigger,
and rebellion is redundant.
I can’t write because,
all advocates of truth,
would agree that my talent was induced,
that I was a tool the world used,
to document the inner struggles of peculiar youth,
the peak and descent of love,
and the marvel that is you,
and now that I’m stable,
there’s no madness to write of,
now that you’re gone,
there’s no marvel and no love,
there’s no fire in me anymore,
no melodramas in store,
and I think that this new found apathy,
is my shot at sanity,
because in reality,
poetry only encourages delirium.
So I hereby let go of words,
and of the art of beautifying blues,
I can’t write anymore,
and I think that that’s good news.