Writing is not easy
        The words in my brain 
swirl around like balls 
        in one of those bingo cages 
Turning over and over again
        waiting to be spat out

B10 A36 D0

Constructing Words Building a sentence A meaning 
        Something that makes a point Or not 
Plays on words and images and meanings
        That will excite me 
That will open a new window 
         to see what is outside or inside 
Make me and/or you uncomfortable or comfortable 
         Just sitting here 
moving words around 
        as they spit out of my brain 

Like numbers called out

G20 O9 O11 D3

The point is that writing is like trying to hit the jackpot in a Bingo game Waiting for those numbers/letters to spring out from wherever they spring out from 
often left to luck It’s not something you can control They pop up from somewhere in this case in your head and you’re just lucky when they help you win the jackpot.

Writing at 5 a.m.
When your mind is 
waking    fuzzy from dreams. 
The coffee high trying
to find clarity    
where there is none
We write
the pencil crawling       hesitantly
across the soul              reluctantly
making letters              wishfully
we can define words     hopefully
We write 
like a knife
cutting up
our souls
spilling all over
that fine white notebook
While we suck it all up
with a no. 2 pencil
And hope
we understand it all
before
anyone else does

Truthfully, I stopped using a pencil and notebook to write my pieces (except for ideas and outlines) some time ago, but you get the point. Writing is hard not because I can’t come with ideas; hell, I have a million of them. It’s because I have to dig around in some deep emotional shit, using my creative process like a knife cutting up my soul. When was the last time you wanted to cut up your soul?

Freeing One's Soul
There is something about writing 
that frees one’s soul
There is something about shouting from my mind through my fingers tapping a keyboard and letters miraculously appearing on the screen in front of me
Spelling out meanings/hard words/soft words/definitions of real-life/made-up life/life as only I know it

I wish I could reach back into the past for that one memory that eludes me to understand myself better
and I could write about it 
and tell other people 
who might use it to understand themselves better

I just want to help

I wish I could reach into the future 
to see 
where I have been had not been a total waste of time

That all this effort has not been in vain/that lessons have been learned/words have set a vision 
and 
clarified the truth 
of 
where I am today/at this moment/so I/people can better understand myself/themselves

I’m just trying to be helpful

And isn’t that the point about writing? Tapping out words that float around me/out of the neurons in my brain/I hate having to tell you this in person/because I’m shy and I’d rather my words and the stories they shape speak for me/really

Imagine for a moment
what type of house/street/neighborhood/city/state/country/planet/universe we could build if we just took the time to write a love letter to ourselves/our lovers/and haters/and we had no time for hate or war/If we just took all of our time to read those love letters

This is why I write
I’m just trying to be helpful.
I’m not saying this is all prize winning writing
The point is that I write because well because 
I write to flush out my mind and soul
I write because 
there is some truth I'm trying to unravel
discover
lay bare
Or 
I write because I'm obsessed with spilling my guts
in public 
and even if I'm pained by the process I just can’t help myself
(Damn, it sure looks like some S&M kind of shit   Pleasure out of pain)
Wait 
that sounds like something a heroin addict or alcoholic might do
Yeah been there done that
I’ll just stick to writing to flush out my mind and soul.