Another day rolls on

Another day, another day, what will I accomplish today. The hardest time I have is justifying my existence when I am not earning money. My only options are to clean house. That always makes me feel like I am earning my keep. I look around at all these people who are "writers". What does that mean. What does it take to be a "writer"? Am I a writer because I am writing this. Last night I took a long look at my poetry and I questioned. Questioned why it is that angst is the impetus for my poetry. Hatred or anger towards someone conjures up the energy to write a poem. So, I have to learn to observe and write. Life doesn't have to be filled with hate in order to create good poems. So, today I will sit down and conjure a thought, observe a happening, twist a spot. Other than that I guess I'll just go wash the fucking dishes.