I’m a pro at this.

This nudging PEST in the back of my mind. It’s telling me to write…..”WRITE, Damn you!!!”

Is it my lack of outside experience as of late? An ever-present case of “cabin fever”?

That “something” that sets my wheels on fire…….missing. Hiding beneath so much….”life”.

But what will I write about about? I have so many damn notes…..seeping through my daily thoughts, hiding within my little note pad, my cell phone apps, little jots of chicken scratch I get so excited about at the time they are set free out into the world.

Still…..NOTHING.  And this was supposed to be my outlet, my NEW beginning.

I just can’t stand the pressure.

It aches…and it’s late, and I need to get something out. But what?!

It’s as if there’s just TOO MUCH to say, and I’ve forgotten the way.

I’m in a sense…..lost.

Consistency…..or rather the threat of such things seems to make it all worse for me somehow. I used to have a drive to do this…..I think still might…

Must I really need to down at least 4 dark beers or a bottle of wine in order to write ANYTHING lately?

Even this….jumble of words and sour nothings I produce if only to feel SOMETHING.

I used to be a poet. That was before I became affected.

Once upon a time I had my own voice. That is until I began to hear other voices in my words…in my mind. Damn you poetry slam…. you cruel mistress.

Sometimes I wonder if there is even an original voice to be had anymore.

Or are they all over-used and dried up like the once succulent fruits of my creativity? Left out in the sun for far too long……left out to rot.

If only I could just get it out of my mind. This thing…..it’s haunting mean and it doesn’t even have a name.

I’m better than this.

I’m a writer dammit…..or at least…..I USED to be…..

Woe is me…