THE BLANK PAGE

there was not a word in me  
not a syllable  

nothing  
 
i'd been scraping what i could  
from the very bottom  
picking at scabs  
running my fingers  
over scar tissue  
 
remembering  
 
anticipating  
 
still...  
 
maybe i'd used it up  
 
maybe it never existed  
 
who the fuck did i think i was anyway?  
Dylan Thomas?  
 
shit.  
 
i walked to the sink  
and stared at my face  
in the mirror  
 
i looked tired  
 
"what the hell,"  
i thought.  
"Geezus!"