Cliff Edge

There is a white space
In front of me
Which I cannot fill
It’s blankness
Rank with a longing
A hankering for
A creative will
That can’t be stilled
A silent terrifying space
Filled with a silent curse
Does this silence
Lead me to or from violence
Does it distract
From my usual acts
Do the words
Leave me bleeding
On the floors
Of hotel rooms
My practice is disrupted 
A fucked up hope 
A hating which takes on the tone
Of mistrust
Of labored for
Hankered for craft
A void
That can’t be filled
A voice that’s empty
I’ve stored away words
Specific
Waiting for the day
to be poured
Over that cliff edge
Into that
blank white hole
Which lays now full of hate
Empty yet
Attempting to break
My soul.