all i want to do is not write

but i can’t help it

what can i say?

my fingers itch

i don’t care if it’s important 

or interesting 

or inspiring

or real

i don’t care about that


it’s as though 

i could be consumed by fire

and then 

maybe then

it would be when the underlying drive


maybe then 

would it fizzle out

and i wouldn’t need to say anything 

forget need

need is like waiting

i can’t wait

the words wouldn’t let me

they’d pile up into pages and pages

overflowing book

get it out!

then maybe the itch would be gone

but it won’t leave

i’m ok with that

and who knows how many words it will take before 

it says

ok now you’re done

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