Tempted

I really don’t know what to write.

I really want to write.

With just that, I can say I am satisfied but I know there is more to come.

The temptation.

I am tempted to commit an act of literature but not sure how to attack.

It may be a vicious encounter as I am frustrating by the word.

This isn’t what I really want to say. I am wasting – just wasting.

But these are words I realize.

Though these are words, I realize there still remains that tiny knot of tangled unsatisfaction and separation of me a few months ago when I loved to write.

Maybe that was when topics mattered.

Maybe topics don’t matter.

It is the temptation that is vicariously written through us.

Since I am tempted

I am okay.