In a room with the curtains drawn
a single ray of sunlight scans the
parallel lines of bodies on the floor.
It is a weekend, because
when else do we associate
with love, that ugly landlord,
without feeling the urge to break
away, tearing away from the scene
with the work of an unsteady hand?
There are a few moments of focus
where the camera zooms in to
rest its tired eye on some act
of little significance; a hand
behind the back of the head,
soft crooning in the background.
I lend the space in my head
to imagination. I have lost
the link to poetry. Severed
and blocked at the same time,
I find myself unfurling.
I do not know what to write about
without some further prodding.
What works? What doesn’t?
I’d rather lend myself to
matters in physicality;
not words but swords,
edges of finger-tips
and the reward
of sweat after a long day’s work
toiling away at making something
that, like poetry, will be worth remembering
and sometimes that is okay
and sometimes that is alright
but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss poetry
Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.
Apologies for the long hiatus, was busy with school.