Poem of the Weak

[tectak]

My pen is heavier than the words that once flew from my flowing tip.
I flap about for metaphor
but may as well use semaphore
to manifest each witty quip.

I sleep now far more than I think. I used to multi-task the two
until the former overtook
(I once believed I'd write a book)
the latter as the weakness grew.

These days I barely have the strength to crumple up each wasted tome;
in reams old dreams lie everywhere
like cold collations. I despair
of writing even one more poem.

tectak
2014