another day, another poem,

writing your heart out knowing it doesn't matter is like drinking water without electrolytes when you're dehydrated

insufficient

baseline

leaves you thirsty

dry-lipped

it's like, dancing with no music on, alone, just movement

words on a page

pixels making up code

code making up pixels

it's like, trying to run a marathon while getting puffed out going downstairs to get a snack from the fridge

there's something but not enough

ingredients, but you have to cook

dishes to wash before starting a recipe

it's like, waking up extra early so you have time to start you day better but staying in bed on your phone for over an hour

lazy

stuck

draining

writing sometimes feels insufficient

like just letters pasted together in an attempt at a story that never feels good enough

dry, draining, doomed

you think, who would care if i'd stop

if i just got up, got take-out, then went back to being lazy in bed and avoided it all

but us writers got too much hope in our hearts

that one day our words might mean something to someone

that poetry would flow river-full, with fish more than plenty, effortlessly

so i wrote this poem, told this feeling, and maybe it might mean something