For old habits taking a second chance,

April Eleventh.

It's 10:46 am and I've gotten back into coffee.
Fourth cup this week for the first time in months.
I'm not used to the jitters yet,
So I've got a latte stained hand and the table is dripping.
It's raining pretty hard,
Everyone's got busy schedueles,
But I don't worry.
The books are my friends,
The pens are the weapons in my shaky hands,
Fighting the blank pages.
I might be returning to old habits,
But I think its too early to tell.
My heads getting clogged,
With an unjustified reason.
Mix the caffeine,
Allergies,
Too little zoloft,
And I've got the sinus pressure of a writer getting through the block.
I'm chiseling it off,
Piece
By
Piece.
With rain; my favorite of all weather,
My reconnection with coffee,
My anticipation of the next slip to be saved by this very notebook,
and potentially my tiny Ativan,
I'm on my way to the core.