so much writing
over the past three days
and so little of it
poetry-based
who even am i?
so much writing
over the past three days
and so little of it
poetry-based
who even am i?
having a thing
a project
an assignment
and a due date
brings out all the worst in me
in terms of school-wise planning and ability
i mean, i’m able to get to work
to get it done
(i got it done)
but i seem to be unable to finish
without a huge jolt of stress
and anxiety
the night before
it’s actually due
and this seems less than great
for my mental and physical health states…
the one good thing
about having sound
turned up on my phone
once more
is that i have different tones
for different friends’ texts
and now i know [again]
what to get excited for
pounding hearts
waiting limbos
musics
lists
memories
texts
plans
but no planning
and no jinxing
hopefully
hopes
procrasti-working
works for me—-
i get into the flow
of whatever work
isn’t time-sensitive
/finish up a project
that isn’t really necessary,
and i find myself
[usually, but not always]
able to continue flowing
into the stream of consciousness
of whatever thing i was avoiding
to begin with
[but i wouldn’t necessarily recommend this
to anyone else]
[except
maybe
maybe those
with the adhd]
the cat
has a compulsion
every time there is a lap
with a soft fuzzy blanket atop
she must
must
must
crawl upon the space
created perfectly for a curled up cat
kneed the knees and thighs
just a few times
then perch
lie
purr
sometimes sleep
laps themselves
are only about 50% inviting
she could take or leave
bare legs/
legs blanketed in jeans/
pajamas/
dresses/skirts/harem pants
but the minute
that soft polyester cover is draped
here comes the hasslecat
a magnetic pull
a need
a compulsion
a necessity
to lie
on a blanketed lap
and i love her for it
the calm before the storm
no
there’s been so much storm before
now
the eye
of the hurricane
waiting
to discover
the truth amongst
the wild weather around us
but what do we do now
when we know
that only tempest
surrounds us
[no escaping
reality]
usually
i use morning page time
to write what’s bouncing around in my mind
and smooth out the edges
of the frantic thoughts and premises
and write for an audience
once i’m done
parsing
ponderings
but this morning
i’m just continually
digging through
my mind’s soil
and seeing what might grow
and i don’t know
if any of my work is readable
much less digestible
but better to let indigestion take hold
than not have anything to show
from such a
productive
pensive
morning
right?
i’m
so bad at bedrest
at resting
in general
at least i’m willing to nap
and sit quietly
as a thunderstorm
rolls on through
i’ve been pondering
stories
as lives
lives as stories
and i haven’t come to any conclusions
yet
except that
apparently
this is my current way
to dissociate