sometimes my mind feels
as if it contains no ideas.
hints of past memories
swirl around like smoke,
but dissipate between my fingers.

a hint here,
a hint there,
a hint that leads me nowhere.

memories either seem
too insignificant
or too important to contain.
making writing 
more like staring at blank space,
waiting for inspiration to strike

a word here,
a word there.
only to be erased

My mind will find something,
Start to write,
Only to be lost in thoughts

Or stuck...

Trying for perfection,
Achieving frustration instead

This word here.
No, there.
A never ending cycle

Like now.
Unsure of what to add.
Alternative endings storming in my mind,
Going through rigorous evaluation
Until one is chosen,
Several minutes later

I like this phrase here,
but I also like that one there.
Spending countless minutes arguing in my head

an internal rhythm is formed
from ideas,
to nothing...
Over and over again,
Until my mind is truly empty,
the war stops,
And my work lies finished before me