about my words
they’re not good
not even good enough
there are moments when i recognize the creativity channeling through me
there are the moments that make up the majority of my time
those moments where i struggle to allow words the freedom to move freely
i sat down to write
fully charged and
aching to spill onto an open page
then i sat down
and this happened
what am i trying to say?
what am i trying to accomplish?
fuck writer’s block
blocks of creativity
what i imagine
i’ve got something to cough up but
up nothing comes
only unbelievable judgement
does anyone have any tips on allowing the creative spirit room to exhale out of you?
creative constipation is uncomfortable