This page lay dead.
Words swirled, little by little, inside my head, each year.
This - foil to everything I actually wanted to write, lay locked.
The words had nowhere to go.
Mornings I woke in clouds of verse,
Comebacks, framed 3 days too late
Inner monologue all dressed in colour
Flew down a river that didn't exist.
You must write. Travelogues. Film Reviews.
You must write. Recipes. Food Reviews.
You must write. Form, structure, coherance.
Tripe.
Words I can have here -
Thoughts as they flow.
