the art of staying up late the night before a huge paper is due. im only a freshman in college, but this skill is already mastered... but what happens when writers block and various forms of melancholly fill my soul... then these late night coffee cups, and cigarettes seem useless... the paper wont come... but amazingly, this poem did... enjoy.



this blank page
this endless stretch of white cloud
this blank page could become
so many different things
a drawing
a story
a poem
and though it seems wrong
that something should be
more important than poetry,
most importantly
a research paper
but the words don't come
and this endless blank page
seems to spread out even further
beyond ten pages
beyond the works cited
into infinity
where the words lie
hidden from me
my fingers unable to click their rhythm
unable to dance across the keyboard
and spout the brilliance in my mind
i sit
stare
at this endless blank page
my resources cant help me this time
my writer's mind won't dig me out
im fucked
fucked beyond salvation

an ammendment... we only have to write five to seven pages... not a whopping ten... but heh... it seems like infinity to me :P