I just woke up

And although my undying passion to write overwhelms my being

Autocorrecting every word I write while

Committing to writing my daily manifesto on a blank page

Is quite deafening for a writer like me.

My b-day is coming up.

I can barely get in touch with my friends.

I need to get chores done around the house.

Ugh!

Stinks to even think of writing anything

In this moment of pure emptiness

I can't stop writing when I start

I can't start writing again after I stopped

Strange paradigm don't you think?

Whatever! Nothing makes sense in my life anyway, so

Why write about what won't give me a straight answer?