Tortured creative

Stuck

in judgment,

Not flowing

Is this a rip I can escape?

Sick of second-guessing

It only leads to stagnancy and self-deprivation

Instrumentation is what I yearn for

Riddled with what if’s, shoulds and shouldn’ts,

I’m wedged in a standstill

Nothing’s getting past the gatekeeper tonight

Where’s a good party crasher when you need it?

I’ll happily summon one

Ink blots gathering on the page

No words emerging

Has my voice been corked?

Tuning into my internal critics,

I shudder at their bark

Their dialogue offers no liberation

I’m trapped in their doubt,

Drowning in misery