Take a look out of your window. what do you see?
Nothing; thick material blinds my view.
Look around your room. What is it like?
Cluttered. Piles of the inconsequential. I can't write.
Turn the radio on. Does that help?
No; hearing whining won't help.
Get a pad. Let the pen fly. See where it lands.
If I have a block, then what's the point in that?
Ok. Pick up the phone. Chat to a friend.
Their words drift. Problems they want me to mend.
Take a look inside yourself, anything there?
I see muscles contracting.
Veins stringing everything together.
Mainly, a skeleton and
it holds me up.
You see? That's it, that's writing. Now,
What is your biggest problem?
If I pretend. then writing is.
But I know
my ind is so full.
The only way to get rid
is to write. Page by page.
My only problem,
is me.
