I Was a 12 Year Old Rock Star

I have been experiencing a bit of writer’s block since my book came out. I have begun to create a “poetry” only book with about 50 to 70 works now well started. If you know my story, you’d note that I pretty much don’t finish any of my writing. Am I now beginning the poem of the day? I somehow am able to easily and immediately come across another line or so when trying to write for this space. Today I have created another short and incomplete poem/song-lyric work. None the less, I have been lifted to a new and ever so superior stance so that my very person is now being reborn once more. So here goes: Upon a sea of sensation, I drink inebriation, then in reaching for a cerebral penetration within a daily dream’s delusion, I settle in seclusion, as I demonstrate a flaccid cranial protrusion, in solitude a solo, lonely cast intrusion, in a flailing search for consoling absolution, so far away from life’s disdain, in a shallow breath’s sweet quaint domain, to heights of gratitude’s fulfillment gained, then in a glamorous and glowing soft sonnet’s refrain .