Forced

Sometimes,
you know there is
no feeling, but you still dig,
and dig, and dig
even though you're
as empty as a classroom
in the summer time.

you just want to...

you just want to...

...write.

words are dry as
seeds, but you still
feel like squeezing them,
like painting them, like, like..

damn it!

you just want to,

write..

and so you end up
with a poem like this one.

senseless, absolutely senseless

and totally, totally forced.