(Untitled)

[baronvonspookle]

Another night watching a voluminous collection of TV shows on DVD. I read my friends live journals. Pore over them with an aching empathy. End result? I am jealous. Some people just flow. I don't. Maybe I am not hitting my honesty. Maybe I just have a block, but any ways, I feel like what I have to write is, as they say trifling. End point school

Comments

[cpthowdy]

How is it that a poetry major can go a year without some form of poem comeing out of them? Your a poet, its your lifes blood. When you are cut, there is no blood there, just words that flow from your wounds. I know you, the poetry is there, you might not be putting it on paper in fear of rejection or something, but the poetry is still there.