Right now,
In this single moment,
I'm stuck.
Pinned in place by my
Incapability.
Stuck with a never-ending desire,
Implacability.

Right now,
I'm trolling this site,
Hoping for inspiration to strike,
And trying to ignite,
My drowned desire to write.
It doesn't work.
As usual, I'm left
Stagnant.
Trapped by my broken mind,
Fragment.

Right now,
I'm a plagiarist,
Who should do his work.
Writing a story from two differing POVs
That's the assignment for my class.
And summarizing a story, too.
It's a simple task,
From my past point of view.
I'm taking this thought,
From someone else's post.
At least, it's what started the train
Of thought through which I channel my pain.

Right now,
I'm sick of not saying anything,
At least where my writing's concerned.
I mumble and ramble, making no sense.
Even these words here are worthless.
Because they aren't true,
I don't think.
They're just me trying to give coherence,
To my numbed mental prescence.

I can't make things sound even halfway decent,
No matter how I try.
I've got to rewrite this whole thing,
So it's good enough to be posted.
But I won't change it,
Or post it,
Or let myself remember it's real.
Since I dislike the way the words make me feel.
Right now.