Monday, August 10, 2015


I haven't been able to write anything, and it's most certainly not writer's block - I have plenty of things to say, but it's just that those things are far too dry and sarcastic.
      My mind must be disgruntled and cynical about the world, and I have no idea how to control it).

Here's a poem about the tedium, the frustration of writing - one of the less eye-rolling-sarcastic pieces of this month

I hate the emptiness that my mind has got,
And the fog swirling among my thoughts.
I hate these to-do lists that unroll themselves endlessly,
And the sound of ticking clocks.
I hate the feel of the skin in my hands as I clench them into fists,
And the wrinkle between my eyebrows that I am trying hard to fix.
I hate the smell of coffee shop vigor
And the words “resourceful and efficient figure.”
I hate their misunderstood praise
And the mirror’s expectant gaze.
I hate the check marks, the organization
And the emptying rituals of preparation.
I hate the incessant whirring of an unmoving motor,
And sowing seeds that reap no fodder.