At 12 it could have been six hours

but two good conversations and now it’s 2,

so four.

Another day of not enough sleep

Another night of “I’m awake now.”

Another try at typing words

to say something I can’t.


Reading someone who says it

so much better that I (don’t) want to try.

That’s a writer!

People read them.


And I’m a, I’m a, I’m a,

I’m a

Can a scream say it better

or a curse I can’t stop


Do any measures count

how many times I haven’t…?

Given up.  Gone to bed and

fallen asleep. Broken the dishes.

Every one.

Surrendered to demons whose voice sounds

just like mine.

“None of this matters, it’s useless,

pathetic, you joke,


If you would just quit

the world would thank you.  Honestly.”

And every affirmation

disappears by 2:30


Swallowed in the roar of

futility and silence.

What if I never…?

Is the trying enough?

A writer.

You’re joking me, right?

No. I don’t think I am.

6 thoughts on “Process

  1. Daniel Koenigs

    I am proud of you for not giving up, sometimes, actually often, I have the same battle going on inside of me.

  2. jean

    To be read and re-read starting at 2:31 am: you are worthy, your writing makes a difference and is a blessing to so many.

  3. Lois

    Prayers and total empathy. Hugs and a joined stomping of feet. Does fist pounding help? A high five or hand holding offered. OR laughter and a fall to the floor.

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