Block

these blank pages are confounding me;
they are surrounding me, hounding me.

staring at me in blankness,
mocking me with emptiness,
I search for words to mark up their clean whiteness;

blacken out the page with tightly packed letters,
scribbling ideas as fast as I can,

but this expanse of ruled lines stares back at me;
laughs out loud
at my attempts for literary revelation,
and compounds the ink in my hand.

I lay down my pen,
and wander off to find something to eat.