it’s like looking in the mirror, then going away and forgetting what you saw. but then trying to write a book about that spot in your head where you should have a memory of your image. but you don’t.

poetry

yea my fingers ache to write
and i’ve lined my computer up
just perfectly with the right
software and setup to be what
i imagine could be called productive.

oh and my book topic is complete
even the ideas are relatively well
formed and outlined in my head.
sure a few minutes of mapping it
out might be useful to the process.

and it doesn’t matter what they say
i type WAY faster than i could possibly
spit this thing out in longhand even
with the constant distractions in the
background vying for my attention.

and though the motivation knocks
at the door every few hours i have
yet to pull the trigger. rather i keep
the book within the crosshairs and know

i simply cannot fail until the first
sentence is formed of absolute vomit
and i re-read and give up hope in my
unrealized vanity.

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