I write to write. It's were I get the kinks out. It's how I deal with the impossible equations of life. It's how I unwind. It's where I let go.
Tonight I have no subject, there is no end goal. I will either stop, or keep going. This all might turn out as mad poetry, a wee bit of silly word play, or complete rubbish.
This lack of direction, this lack of control. Will, no doubt, be quickly controlled, and monitored. I will adapt. Some form, some structure will come of this. I promise.
PISS ON YOU, write through system and control, don't let the rules catch you. Write, Write, WRITE! Rules be DAMNED! Duck around corners, quick, hide under the bed.
I have been writing my brains out and now I have hit the wall. The bastard has sprung loose from the shadows. I am about to be devoured by the beast. There is no escape, I am running out of breath...words, WORDS, why would they fail me now? *Ahhhhh, ghharrble, gaaa, ouf*
You win this round.