POET'S LIFE

I sit here in my studio
the room of my life
sitting in complete blindness
with blank verse and forgotten words
where dust clings to yesterday

unable to give up my innocent past
or the dreams wearing new costumes
suffering with eyeballs that never open
like wall sockets without power
beating  to the beats of my soul

compelled to listen to yesterday forgotten
where nothing is what it seemed to be
offering windows of light and laughter
without conversations with my thoughts
never fearing death only endless nights

exhausted with the exertion of a poet
where words sit alone in prison
tumbling towards an empty page
I remain invisible to the world
opening the gates to another poem