I Hate You

I hate you.
I hate how you tease me
I hate your smug white face, your
stubborn blankness
I want to rip you up,
tear you limb from limb,
crush shreds of you into a ball and
hurl you across the room in frustration.
I want to groan and bury my hands
in my hair, tears of  exasperation making
my eyes sting.
But what will that achieve?
There will be one less piece of paper in this world,
that's all.
I will  not suddenly find the right words arising
out of the thick fog in my head.
No words will spill from the tip of my pen in
that satisfying babble, like a spontaneous spurt
of vomit from a baby.
In a way, it is almost masturbatory.
I try and try to come, wanting that exhilarating
rush of endorphins, needing it so badly that it
hurts.
I need to feel like I have a purpose,
a reason for being here
And this is all I have to offer to the world.
I need to get it out, please God...
The more I strain for release, the more I realise that
nothing is going to happen.
No magic is going to occur today.
And so I give up, my heart sinking
down into my gut like a rock tossed into a well.
I have lost my touch.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Worthless, worthless, worthless.
I watch my talent floating away from me
And I reach out to it like a child reaching out for a
beloved teddy bear, my lower lip trembling.
Come back, please, please come back
You bastard, get back here
I'll kill myself if you leave me.
I have sexual dysfunction of the brain.
I hate you, blank paper.
But I love you, too.
I need you.
For without you, I would be
nothing.