Writer’s Block

I am chopped up in little pieces floating in my own abstraction, lost in a word I cannot find and chosing instead to be benign. Swirls of thoughts float in a pond covered in algae's beauty grime. Yesterday's magical impressions are lost in today's humdrum loss of colour picked through the gloss of a black and white grainy photograph. I have nowhere to turn in this age of industry's dull sparkle of flourescent care lost in memory of sparkled sea's jellyfished sting. The belly rumbles and I am reminded of food not eaten in a world gone corporate. Waiting for the ticking of time to ease my escape.