i wanna write

but the words don't come...
or get tangled in the synapses between my mind and my fingers

but i'm writing now,
right?

i suppose...but
everything feels like a half assed
half sketched rough draft of a
something partly finished

notebooks gathering dust on bookshelves
while i stick my nose in yet another book
out of the ideas of others
come papyrus iv's
keeping me alive
barely
as if i'm not creative enough on my own

but i ain't feelin myself these days...

fk.

i gotta
throw out all the old pens and pencils
file away books filled with last year's dreams
grab some sparkling multicolored pens
and plain old bics
notebooks thick with rainbow colored paper
& simple composition books
clean off my desk
and get to it.