Finally, I've started writing again. I hope the writer's block is gone for good. All I had to do was think of the tip of a pen. . . hehehe

Scab(bed)

Tap. Tap
goes the pen
aching
to flip over
and touch
the page.
held
back, back
by this bulwark
in my mind.
The ink in
turmoil
swirl, swirl
at the edges
insisting on being
heard just this once.
Scratch, scratch.
How slow it starts.
First a trickle -
of
thought
punctured by
rapid scrapes
that blot into -
pictures that
bleed, bleed
these words:
Shaking in delirious anticipation for the proverbial gasp of a full stop.

I fall
back, back
watching the wounds scab.
if
I'll
let
them
scab.