You tell me

I’m rattling my brain for something to write.

I need to write. Need to get it out my system. It’s driving me crazy just sitting here reading all these stories by all these people, having a yearning to let my creativity flow through my fingertips. I’ve started seven different stories about seven different things. Lunar voyage, tuna casserole, debauchery, archery, paranoia, Bohemia, and sadism. I’ve tried to sit and think and type slowly, I’ve tried to just let it flow freely. I have attempted sequels and prequels, villanelles about villains, a haiku about heroes, a tanka, an elegy, metaphors and similes. I’ve read a book, read old poems, some my own, some famous, some not so much, looking for a spark. Something that could then ignite into a blaze of words. For the life of me I cannot get past the first couple lines before getting frustrated and scrapping it. I guess I’ll have to sleep on it, weird though, for some reason I feel a little more calm. I guess I didn’t need to write as bad as I thought.

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