Thursday, April 12, 2012

Write Somthing

"Write something." He said to me.
I looked at him with scared eyes, trying to hide my fear.
"You will get it. Don't worry."

I stared at the keyboard, fingers perched on the home row. I waited for the words to come. Fishing around my brain for the right thing to say. I started to type and then stopped. I wanted this to be perfect the first time. The words had to be right, now. Nothing was coming to me. I went deeper into my mind, a jumbled mess of words desperate to bleed their way out of my brain, through my fingers and onto the digital page. A mess of time pieces, sunglasses, descriptive words for bike parts and nerves that wouldn't stop getting in the way.

All at once the flood gates opened. Like I couldn't contain the bile of words that had projectiled from  my body and into the screen in front of me. This are real. This is real. These words mean something?

It is the getting started that kills me some days. An arsenal of words waiting to escape in a gun fight of rhetoric. Don't let me hurt anyone.

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