There are the days
When the mind is so sluggish
The imagination so depleted
Passion, desire, motivation
Evaporated

That all I'm left with
Is life
And all of its beautiful
Mundaneness

How do I describe
The lack of energy?

How do I describe
The depression
That keeps me from me?

How do I mute
The voices
That voice there
Knowingly
Consciously
Purposefully

There is a mad rhythm
In all of this
In all of us
And some days it's simply there
Underneath the fingertips
In the mind
In the soul
In the heart
And onto

The page

Other days
This day
This hour
This minute
This second

There is nothing but the objective truth
Of my fan whirring
Pushing air that mixes with this 9:40 PM
Early summer breeze
Warm neon orange reflecting on the
Silver moon Camry across the street
The pavement dry and littered with cold dog ****
With the rumbling echo of a plane filling the night sky

I put these down
These setting details
And I worry about the mechanics
Of such things

Wishing I didn't recognize
These things
Wishing I was as new to all this
Ignorant to the purpose
Of the proposed
As I was when I was a child
Not thinking about word choice
Page count
Structure, themes, authorial interpretation
Twitter followers and re-tweets

Is this what
This is now?

A game
Of
Outdoing
Yourself?

Of elbowing your way
To a seat
At the table?

Is this
What it's always
Been?

Is this
What it will always
Be?