Posted in Life

An unproductive Sunday

If I were a time or day
I’d be an unproductive Sunday
sleepy with pre-storm glow
wondering where it all goes
deadlines roar thunderous grumbles
flashing my messenger
its quarter to three
all I want is the answer

pretending to write letters
feeling the delete buttons
editing my mind
haunted by the fear
its raining outside
and I am screaming
on the inside

goaded by universal truths
weighing down my confidence
anchoring my thoughts

dreaming of the tomorrows
procrastination’s pal
is hoping for a time out

I am an unproductive Sunday

Inspired by a rather unproductive Sunday. I made a pact with myself to spend Sunday afternoons editing my NaNoWriMo novel, today I failed, as I drowned in plot and blank pages. 

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