Monday, December 11, 2023

Meh at Best

 


I haven’t felt the ink

in my veins for a while,

as it were.

The urge to mash these

words onto the page,

has been, “meh” at best.

 

It’s okay to have a period

wherein the awesome magic

of prose seems to dwindle for

a time. Where things don’t seem

so fantastic or awe inspiring.

 

When things are just,

“meh”, or, “So-so”, or

just “blah”.

Manilla, milquetoast,

bland, without form

or structure.

 

Amebic,

a great sedentary blob,

of ennui and

laissez-faire,

curling the fingers into

mitts, rather than flying

over the keyboard with aplomb.

 

I get the sense that I’ve

said it before,

it’s been said before,

what ever it is that needs to be said,

has been, to whomever needed

to hear it.

 

Yet there’s still something,

thumping in my chest,

an irritated beating,

a thudding anxiety,

begging for my fingers,

to uncurl and unleash

their typing terrors.

 

But then,

“Meh”.

 

 


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