What I hate about writing is the feeling backing it, and how with words you keep digging towards that feeling you’ve been trying to shake for too many hours and can’t drop, you dig and dig and end up leaving the truth of it up on the surface, you stop to look back at what you’ve done and there it lies, that damned nagging feeling, farther from you, unable to spit it out, keeps shaking you from the inside and you reach back with the words again, you know the words to match them feelins when you’re thinking them, but the letters lack the curves in print, no closer to sharing how you felt, no closer to knowing it for real.
Turn myself inside out and roll the message engraved within without, leave it open. I want to be so free that I can’t stand to hide in myself any longer.
I want to say these things but I don’t want them stated, standing so clear they hit me once more.
Let me be empty. Please.