not a writer but sometimes I like what comes out
my head is filled with things to say… and then I sit down to get them out
not a thing there. nothing flowing from my fingertips.
like the thoughts that are composed have the shortest life shelf imagineable.
like the keyboard is a giant auditorium of faces I’ve never seen + cat’s got my tongue
the whiteboard whiped clean
staring at a sheet of paper or the keyboard
trying to push thoughts- unauthentic
nothing seems authentic enough and then I remember that they’re my words so how could they not be
it’s still a block
does it make sense?
do they get it?
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