The ink is too dry

It has been awhile since I freshly squeezed any new thoughts and ideas.

What can I call it?

-laziness?
-writer's block?
-keyboard allergies?
-neglect to my intellect? (i like this one)

Today is Feb 25th and my last post was on January 1--the first day of 2012.

I had a plan. I had a goal. I had a strategy. All left in the cold.
I want to write. I want to share. It took me awhile to know I actually care.
Many nights elapsed and the regret set in.
Procrastination had become my best friend.
Each time I wrote with subject matter at hand,
She robbed my thoughts and took her stand.
Let me continue, let me be. Let me remember you, set me free.
But she spoke her own truth in the howling winds of the night,
And it set me reeling, it gave me fright.
I opened the window to feel her breeze. But the moment I did so,
the night stood still...

I realized what I set out to do was harder than I thought. To speak of my childhood entailed remembering my mother and reincarnating her. And it stopped me in my tracks.

The ink is too dry. I need to start a new page, a new thought, a new emotion.

Ok Mother. I will start again.