Somehow I feel forced by the noise in my head.

I wonder sometimes if I am totally alone…

Wait, is that too depressing of a start?

Ok, I’ll start again.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one in the whole freaking universe who is absolutely driven insane by the things inside my head until I write them down.

Better?

Ok, I guess not, but at least it was more dramatic. If there is one thing I’ve learned in life it’s that drama makes things interesting. Not always good, but interesting.

I started out this blog thinking I would write a back story to everything I post. I then realized I don’t always have a back story so much as I have a burst of something, or an idea if that’s what you want to call it. And generally I can’t keep my head straight until I focus on that idea and get something down in ink.

For this poem it was just a single line that got me typing away. It didn’t actually end up in the poem so I’m going to write it here, “The need to be creative wreaks havoc on the soul.”

Yes. I know. That’s a little dark. If you haven’t noticed, I like dark. And dramatic. That’s just the way I roll.

After that line cleared away my ability to focus, I was sitting up late thinking about how I write. And why I just always do it. So that line came up and then there was five minutes of arranging words and fixing punctuation. Now here’s something that after five days of procrastination seems like a good thing to post.

Here you go!

The Need.

When once a man sat to write, to draw, to make a tale have wings and fly

Began a need in all.

A tale no more.

No, now a life,

A story of one or many or nothing.

The inception of imagination.

The need to be creative.

 

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