alright
okay
just write your silly little story
in the morning
when you’re already on a laptop
and you’re already at the keyboard
and you’re already scanning your mind
for words and concepts and
you have the time
you have the time
why not write when you
have the
time?
i have had
quite the busy
busy week
and today is the day for
resting
and chores that have been waiting
for at least a week
if not more to
be done
and this may end up being my week
from now until
who knows when
but i’ll keep trucking
i’ll keep doing
until i find myself
trying
something different
[i still want to write more than anything
but i can never think of anything
to actually write
about]
yesterday it was so easy to write
and write and write a whole ass poem
in one sitting
i just sat down
and did it
and this morning, the struggle is the
realest of real
and i can’t seem to even think of a subject matter
to write about, much less actually
write
it
and i
am simply adding word by word
by
word
instead of going with the flow of the poem
thinking line
and stanza at a time
and i’m
simply
frustrated
at myself
still haven’t done much
morning poetry writing
this morning
[none at all
yesterday
morning]
but that’s ok
that’s ok
it’s just a personal goal
and the point is to write
and eventually catch up
i can easily do that after therapy
or in the evening
if i so choose
[or even tomorrow]
it’s just me
it’s just for me
it’s all ok
it’s all ok
i’ve always used poetry
to warm up for writing prose
but last night i wrote prose,
and this morning feel invigorated
to write poetry once more
and perhaps it is not the type of words i type
but instead simply the act of writing itself
which warms and invigorates and excites me
for future writings
[perhaps
perhaps
perhaps
i can call myself
a writer]
what a perfect day
to stay at home
and do some sewing
or some reading and writing
and just chill
while the wind howls
and the rain pours
and the sky dumps all it has
upon our holiday house
sitting down to write
and not feeling the immediate
“i have to eat”
“i have to use the restroom”
“i have to do anything other than
write right now”
and i don’t know what to do with that
how to use it —
all the possibilities are before me
spread out
mapped and tangled and crumpled from
viewing but disuse
and i simply want to write
something
something
something
to make myself feel
like i’ve used my
one wild and wonderful brain
i think it’s so fascinating
that i’ve found a way
to expand from “write what you know”
to “don’t let too much out about your inner mind”
where my black and white thinking was fully vacillating between
creative nonfiction
memoir/essay/this needs to be fact-checked as well as can be
and
i need to write a story that has never happened
i need to write a story that has never been written
i need to 100% make this up or it’s cheating or cheapened in some way
and
both options overwhelmed me so
so
i found a way to springboard off of my past and thoughts and events
and land in the ether of “this definitely isn’t my personal experience”
i never knew it could be so easy
to be so
creative
[and to let it flow
in the way it does]
getting up
getting ready
taking the puppy on a walk
sitting down to write
or eat
or prepare for the day
then going about the day
which could be any number of things:
circus
or
a script reading
or
teaching aerial to children
or
grand jury these days
[but only for four more days]
or
[and these are the days i miss]
just chilling at home
kissing the puppy
cuddling with the cat
taking a nap
doing some household chores
taking whatever time i want to take
and
maybe
writing a little more
[when will i get time
to be creative
throughout my days
again?]
if i write of the sunlight
the sounds outside
the playlist and the air outright
is that disingenuous to myself?
kipventures 