sometimes
when i don’t know what to write
i’ll just lightly tap my fingertips
against the keyboard
i don’t press any of the buttons down
it’s not to make any sort of mark
on the electronic page
rather
i’m trying to shake creativity loose
from my fingers, hands, arms,
body —
i’m trying to rain down onto the keyboard
and maybe one of these puddles
will create words
that i can splash into
and from which
i can start
a poem
can i
can i
write a little bit
before we
run
run
run
wedding
prep
being married
celebration
so exciting
so nervous
so much to do
and i don’t know how to help
so hopefully i can just
be
there
and help like
that
writing while
breakfast is on its way
writing while
thinking about the coffee i’m unable to drink
writing while
my phone is struggling to charge
writing while
picking dog fur off of my clothes
writing while
haunted by all the laundry i need to do
today
writing while
only able to picture
the fantasy of potential nap(s) i could have later on
writing while
so many other things are
swiftly swerving in and out of my brain
and i can’t seem to concentrate
on the writing part of
writing
while
with a long slew of
tough days
and busy nights
and sleepless dreams
behind me
i know
i know
i’ll catch up
i’ll catch up
eventually
i’m just so excited this is
almost over
i have such a mind for some kind of
metaphorical simile-esque allegorical writing
right now, but the actual writing brain
isn’t really thinking at the moment, so i
suppose i’ll just take down my desires and
re-evaluate in the morning
[or the next morning]
[or the next next morning]
i don’t know what to write
[i don’t know how to write]
my brain has been sucked dry
and all that’s left is
stardew
valley
when one job
one gig
one life
gets in the way of
another job/
gig/
life
it’s annoying
it’s frustrating
it’s bad but it’s not terrible
because this is what i mean[t] when i say[said]
i cannot
stay in one lane
my
entire
existence
[so i suppose
this is the price
to pay]
not feeling the morning page poetry
this morning
but that doesn’t mean
i won’t do it
i mean
i continue to do this
every
single
morning
whether i’m in the mood or not
just to have something to do
just to have a habit to latch onto
just to have some proof
to say
‘i was here, i had thoughts and feelings and insights, too’
and maybe someone will read them soon
and maybe someone will read them in hundreds of years
and maybe
because they’re all digital
they’ll disappear into the ether
but
maybe the ether will get a kick out of all these poems
and they and the void can talk about me
behind my back
when i’m long long long gone
vibing
with music
but not with
writing
[the plight of the creative
with too many outlets]
feeling disenchanted
with words
my drive to churn out
poetry
or prose
has been quelled by the concept of
more interpretative media
music?
painting?
cake decorating?
what will my next endeavor be?
[and will i still come back to poetry
every morning]
[i mean, i haven’t stopped in literal years,
so probably]
kipventures 