Write me, write me, write me scream the words in my head
As I toil with the unimportant, the sarcastic and the hopeless
My will falls flat and leaves the words to remain disconnected to the greater whole of creativity.
Write what? Which thought? Which emotion? Which tricky piece of word play will tickle my inspiration?
Write about nothing, write lists about aspirations, write about your flaws, write about your guilt, write about your longing, your staccato, your ambivalent passion…
Write about where you want to be, who you want to be, write about your past, your secrets. Write about tomorrow that seriously may not come, write about your faith, your pessimism, your hopeful vibration.
Write about love you’ve lost, love you found and love that never touched your spirit but drew maps all over your body.
Write about your loneliness that exists everywhere no matter how many warm bodies fill up a room.
Write about the rapid changes, the flagrant fixed and the wildly wobbly nature that tortures you.
Create a whole by piercing a hole in your protective bubble.