I Can't Confess What I Should Have Always Known

 Poems fall out of my head and dissolve like Jello.

Which is weird-speak for saying that after the weekend of amazing productivity (2 stories written, 2.5 stories edited, several things posted) my brain is burning out. I really want to finish my two Apo-verse fics but my brain is churning out poems. And poem fragments.

Poem:

( poem here )

( I'm so used to monologuing to the empty air... )

Ten Things I Fear (as a Writer)

 This is something I do when I can't sleep and somewhere, down deep where it's hard to look when it's not in poem or story form, I'm freaking out.

Sometimes it's my greatest fears, worst things that could ever happen, or things I would miss after the nuclear Apocalypse, things like that. Last night it was writing.

Each item is arranged from least to greatest.
( Ten Things I Fear (as a Writer) )

Just another madness poem

 This isn't quite anything yet. But what it is I like

( Days of frenetic activity bleed into long nights of empty eyes… )