Categories
Journal

Empty months

had a massage the other day
she laughed at how stiff my back was
small talk – yes, I’m a writer
she said she wished she was more creative
I didn’t say I wish I was less

creativity can be such a curse
so many ideas, wishes and wants
no energy, no time, no mental bandwidth
this connection – lost
swimming in white noise
the journal has empty months
my mind as an avalanche
massive chaos, hard to salvage
it all piles up and up and up

a few updates to my previous release
the last things to finish the next
one final pass of that video restoration
some proofreading for new editions
collecting and editing new writings
the piles keep piling and piling
everything takes forever and ever

stumbling without direction
can not taste the mead
too full of turbulent water
if I could drain the bog
it would be easier to traverse
maybe rest without sinking
love to sleep – can not sleep
so tired of not being finished
with the wall of stress and anxiety

not trying to write poetry
just trying to write

anything at all