Writers block

Just stop, my world!
Put it all on hold.
Heat embrace my arthritic cold.
Can it all just stop!
For 10 minutes, peace,
I need to…breathe.
I’m missing the moments.
Not superficial survival breaths,
But eyes closed, my arrival breaths.
A taste yet to savour.
The words erode and rust,
My food, it turns to dust.
Waiting in the eaves, cue missed.
Tear induced paintings, unseen,
Unpolished poems and caffeine.
Am nauseous with delay.
My heart, it feels alive,
Thoughts trapped within a hive.
Moon absent on vacation.
No tunes to pulse and venerate,
Or vista to ocular generate.
So we all agree then,
Stop at the stroke of calm,
Sky-facing, pen falls from shallow palms?
(2019 COPYRIGHT) PEDRO Batpoet