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POET'S BLOCK

For some reason or another

I didn't get around to writing this down yesterday

or the day before that

and the blank page is beginning to annoy me.

In a couple of months I won't even recognize what it meant to me, or rather: in a couple of months

or weeks even

I'll believe it served some kind of purpose

back now

when I was too lazy to write

(which I am)

or I was preoccupied with everyday

or I left my notebook back home

Which is why I'm writing something now, even though it's growing late

The need to write is there

though I don't know what I need to write

but as long as it adds up to a predetermined number of words, it doesn't really matter.

I can't write about things that happened today

because the date would be way off

by the time I've finished writing

Honestly

I can't write about anything

if I were to stay true to my ideas

and I probably shouldn't have begun this piece in the first place.

But one could jump to the wrong conclusions

I might begin to believe something was not well

when the page decides to remain blank

It's stubborn

and intimidating and frightening with all its blankness

But now I'm so far into the page, it's "okay" for one tonight

I can't write about the futility of life

because that wouldn't be true

The date is also off

I'm actively looking for excuses

Maybe I was away visiting my parents on that other day

where I didn't get any writing done either

(It's a looong drive and...)

even though the date-stamp has long passed

I can always write how I'm sitting on my bed

dreaming about writing