Thursday, December 31, 2009

Where has my poetry gone?

I am an English major. More than that, I am a writer. My life is not my own unless I can write about it.

Perhaps I haven't been reading enough lately. Who am I kidding? I read EVERY day, nearly every blog I follow. Then what's wrong with me? Why is it so difficult lately, nigh on impossible, to reach inside and find the poetry that lives there? Pull it out and forge it into words so that others may see what lies before my eyes...feel the ache that grips my heart, my mind...God, I feel more trapped in myself than I have in so long, and yet the angst, the anguish, the agony...they're absent (at least in this moment).

It's just so frustrating, you know? I am only free when I write. Only then am I temporarily loosed from the frigid chains that otherwise shackle me to this "reality" that is still so unreal... Ugh. My lack of literary discipline disgusts me.

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