As dreams leave me
like waves receding from a beach
I am left with the worry
that I have inherited from my mother
and since there is no one tool
that would fix all of my problems
I dart between them
like a hummingbird amongst flowers
not coming up with anything
I am left to fixate on a
corner of the ceiling
lit by the pale light of
an alarm clock
that’s dripping minutes
all over my tired face.
Sometimes when life is
kicking your ass
it just wants to grab you
by the balls too.
I gutted the chapter
because it was downright hideous.
What the Hell was I thinking?
That I could turn this macabre piece of bird shit
into something that was a joy to read?
I felt insane. Defeated.
I might as well jerk off and go to bed
but I was a fighter
because God never stopped pissing on my soul
so I went through it all again
slashing, hacking, mutilating
sometimes screaming as I did so
but I cleaned it out good
and then filled in the blanks
with something that made sense
thinking the whole time:
why was I a writer?
Why the fuck was I a Goddamn writer?
I would never be anybody. I was shit.
What a momentous waste of time!
I pounded at the keyboard
drank some wine
next thing I knew it was four in the morning.
“Jesus wept!” I cried.
I had to go to bed
so that I could wake up early before work
and work on this chapter again
because I was a lunatic in obvious need of rehabilitation.
Writing was a hard line to sell
even to yourself
even for all you other writers out there.