The Caves or Dream
we hit the ground two years ago and
haven’t stopped crawling
since
defrocked butterflies, a teaspoon
away from drowning
in soil and rain
come lay beside me,
we will count the stars through
mud-stained eyelids
the air will bite at
our grateful collarbones
as if flight might still
take us somewhere dangerous
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I really love this one.
Another cure for writer's block: Get someone to drive you around and listen to NPR (National Public Radio) whilst holding onto a large notebook and pencil (pencil can be small or large, does not matter).
Also, this is a song:
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