(I turned to a peer for some writing advice.  He gave me clarity on how to present words.  I still fear That Place.  But I must visit it, or as he put it, “become the Mayor of that bitch.”  Day 150…)

You tell me one thing more than this.  There is nothing…

Every word I’ve ever written
Causes me to question if that’s all
If ever after has an answer
A tomorrow the story omitted
A chapter without a sunrise

Or

Between the lines
Is where my story resides
That empty space of hesitancy
Because
I had to catch my breath
I waited for
Whatever
Insert excuse here

Where Nothing sleeps
Lies the rest of me
The darkness
Is the night
Before I write A Time joyously in the morning.