A writer

Was it a blessing
or a curse?
He was haunted every day
and every night
Everything he saw
came alive
and crawled upon him
Tried to take a bite
out of his life
Tried to sneak into his head
and wouldn’t get out
He figured out
that the best thing to do
is seal these monsters
in the frozen lake of a blank page
and that he did
and wandered
wandered everywhere
afraid, reluctant to talk to people
Reluctant to whisper
anything that would resurrect
those creatures from his head.
He smiles and walks.
“What an accomplished gentleman he is”
someone would say
“He rarely talks, such wise person”
“oh me? haha”
“He is gifted in the craft of art.”
“gifted? craft? As if I’m in charge of this mess”
He wandered back into his cage, tired
haunting the demons
that haunted him
pinning them
to more blank pages
frozen
in
time