Frustration

You clog the veins of my pen
and cease its blood from flowing.
You are a monster - frightening
that whenever you draw near,

my hands lose the strength
and I get buried under the earth
with soil covering my feet
up to my mouth.

Seeing what there is in front of me
pains me and I push my mind
to think that it's not there -
human despair; all the horrors

gather around me while my usefulness -
my body shrinks to a pair of eyes.
What good is there then for having a mind
that can cut the dark,

if it is only the shadow
of what there is
that it could cut?
And the thereness lay before me.