There are days when I write
that my thoughts are black and sticky
tar on the windshield on a January
It drips down my pen or gunks up my keyboard
and I sob at the mess that's slowing my down
always slowing me down

There are days when I write
and my thoughts are ghosts
they just want to lay down, but the shadows make them jump
possibilities alien or needed frighten them
and their only artwork
is a plea for help

There are days when I write
and my thoughts are spiders
and I work feverishly
my paintings and poems smeared by eight long legs
angry, violent, (secretly scared)

Those are what people like.

There are days when I write
and there is absolutely nothing wrong.
what a lovely morning...
*I think I'll write a poem