I write poetry on paper. I can’t seem to type poetry on the computer. Is that weird? I can sit here for hours and think and think about poetry…and get nothing. But if I sit down with a piece of paper, or a napkin, or a receipt and a pen or a pencil or a marker, I can write a poem.
Needless to say, I’m sitting here with the laptop and I don’t really feel like getting up to get aforementioned writing paraphernalia.
All I really wanna do, is snuggle down into the blanket that’s covering my feet and sleep. I love an afternoon nap on the couch while Magnum watches Nascar.
So, I need to pump out this poem, so I can sleep! There’s motivation.
What makes me angry?
Poor parenting.
Wanting what I can’t have.
Stupid people.
Women who pee on the seat.
People who take and take but never give back.
So, the poem has to wait...I'm over taken by the drowsy.
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