this dissatisfaction…

Lately, it seems to me, I have suffered from an extreme case of writer’s block or perhaps just extreme dissatisfaction in anything I write anymore. Many moments I just want to slash this fucking heart of mine, drain her of anything remotely close to love and scream to the gods “fuck you!” And my muses still gouge chunks of my heart…how is there anything left of (her) me?


4 thoughts on “this dissatisfaction…

  1. There’s a theory on writing during the winter months that it’s the hardest because the days are shorter. Night being dark and long it inspires more introspection and it’s easy to fall to despair and disinterest.
    Whether or not it’s true I don’t know, what I do know is this piece makes complete sense to me. It’s a brutal loss to be blocked out from doing what you love and know you have a talent for. The imagery is dark and startling, the words are stabbed out in pain truly making it a damn powerful piece.
    It’s a cliché of an author to write of writers block but very few do it so well. This is wonderful!
    If it is autobiographical then I hope it leaves you soon. You have a great voice, don’t let the muses be so cruel. write, stockpile and revisit because when you do publish there’s quite a few of us getting satisfaction from your posts!

    Liked by 1 person

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