Clouded

The papers are finished
And my pen is dry.
My writing is the only way
To keep me alive.
But with no paper,
No ink
And a mind clouded with fear,
How am I supposed to survive?
Writing is my life -
I'm useless without it!
Without my writing
I'm like a walking corpse.
How can I go on
With an imagination
That's gone dry?
I'm dead -
Emotionally and mentally -
I am completely dead.
And if my mind
Doesn't clear up,
My supply of paper and ink
Doesn't replenish,
Then I will become
Physically dead too.

04 August 2004