Every word is a struggle when you don't want to write. The white rectangle in which you type, the blinking vertical line, they seem to say, "And? Now what? That all you got?" with every word, every hesitation.
Number of unfinished blog post drafts: 14
Number of poems written this year: 32
Breakdown by month: January: 13, February: 5, March: 0, April: 2, May: 9, June: 1.
That's all I got. I don't want this to be draft number 14.