I know I should write but I have nothing to say

I know I should write but I have nothing to say.
I delved in monotony today, how fun!

The lawn, the shovel, the leafblower – dear friends, really.
I didn’t drink enough water
I didn’t have a satisfying poop
I didn’t get any exercise
I didn’t drink nearly as much as I’d like

I finished a book and re-read a second
I found a PS2 to USB adapter (joy!)
I watched a 4 year old spit milk on his mother

I know I should write but I have nothing to say
I told you it would happen
Too many people reading what I write
Too much pressure. I want to take it underground

My wife says I should watch what I write
Because who knows who’s reading it?
What if? Maybe she’s right

I know I should write but I have nothing to say
My office is a mess and I didn’t put my clothes away
I’m sitting in my underwear typing to nobody
I learned to play 2 Simon and Garfunkel songs using a capo

I wonder if anyone chooses to paint dirty glasses or just perfectly clean ones
I ponder the musings from Hardcore Zen
I get myself excited about the lucid dreaming
But I know its not real, not here, not now

I know I should write but I have nothing to say
I wait for Thursday; it’s the holiday of the antichrist
But mostly I wait
And I reflect on those things

I live in the moment
It’s all I can do

I
write
Sing songs
In my head
Odes to me, of course
It’s a fibonacci sequence
Didn’t you notice it any sooner than this line?

But mostly,

I know I should write but I have nothing to say
I close the windows, smell the night air
I check the locked doors
And smile at the touch of cold metal
I make one last round
Leaving darkness behind
And into the warm comfort
Of sleep I will find