7.1. Just Do It

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I wanna write,

I wanna write over,

I just wanna motherfuckingwrite.

I wanna write like I used to.

I wanna write like I used to when I was younger,

back when this was my idea of good writing:

‘Writing to remember,

Writing to right the restless,

Writing to rest,

Writing,

Rioting’

I need to write cause I never wanna write anything as embarrassing ever again.

I need to write so bad I look for a prompt.

I need to write cause lately I haven’t been as good at it.

Which is true.

It happens.

I need the words to tangle about,

to hide the snarling snakes that distract my mind,

that inch like worms,

detestable and parasitic,

crawling traitorously over my moats and swellings.

I need the words to appear to divert from the author.

The internet’s idea of writing:

“Write about a family dinner during which no one is related by blood, but that have somehow regardless been joined together.”

Thanks,

but I think the outside world will prove a better instigator.

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