Transfixed or

Fixed in a trance,

I can’t write. 

Really write. 

Scared to submerge

Won’t dare to delve. 

Shallow,

A shell

Shakespeare had opium. 

Perhaps, I need my own 

elixir to elicit 

at least 

an emotion-free fiction.

My words are stilted
muse-wilted;
I can’t address
what is so shallowly repressed,
won't even dip my toes in

I can’t turn a phrase,

For I’ll enter a maze

of the realities 

I have chosen

Trapped in trepidation,

an android

Pen-paralysis 

of a paranoid