ugh
just
ugghhh
~~~
the eyes itch
and the nose sniffs
and the exhaustion hits
and it may just be allergies
it’s probably just allergies
but it still makes me want to
cry for hours or escape into the night
or simply sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep
~~~
i will say
at least my allergist
seemed just as confused
and almost as frustrated
as i am
when he told me
i’m just a big
question mark
also, did i write better poetry
when i wasn’t so sad
and frustrated
literally
all of the
time?
the drive to write is strong —
but what to write about
never seems to come along —
like i’m sitting at a type-writer
or a pen and paper notebook
and i am hovering above what
could very well be brilliant
imagery/alliteration/metaphor
and simile and allegory all
stuck together, but instead my
pen/finger tip just shudders,
the ache of keeping it up
too long as i wait, the heaviness
of the potential i feel in my
body mind and soul too much
too much for one little
writing utensil/blank screen
to hold, so instead i write
about nothing, i write about
wanting to write, i write over
and over again meta poems that
never seem to come to any sort
of fruition or resolution or
conclusion, and i continue
to write and write and write
and here i am again…
do i have the capacity to write more poetry
do i have the capacity to write nicer poetry
do i have the capacity this morning
with lack of sleep
and potential illness
coughing down the back of my neck
and a looming NaNoWriMo deadline in front of me
[probably not, is the answer]
even the poem
i wrote
about having trouble
writing poems
this morning
feels so cheap
and distant
and alien
to what is actually happening in my brain
at the moment
so i guess
i’ll write
this tiny diatribe
about
‘blah’ness
and ‘meh’ness
and the ‘blargh’ that i’ve been
chanting in my head
all morning
and see
where this
all takes me…
kipventures 