not much, even less much than usual.

i am starving and

stark raving

and 

m nails are pretty filthy i'v been moving the ladder around

trying to make something

half decently beautiful

no one seems to turn

i'v spit so much

into it

the day

is quit near end

i haven't read

i haven't written in weeks

weeks

i only spew out

some little emotions

in case

fear decides

to engulf me again

this is the beginning

and beginnings are never

 tragic

however

almost always

terrifying.

the thing is

i thought the issue was getting something

that still is an issue

but an even bigger one

is

to actually want

to 

get it