I write to reflect,

To capture the thoughts and feelings otherwise left unchecked.

I write to imagine,

To fabricate a world injected fully with my compassion.

I write to release,

To empty my mind of anger and fear, left only with peace.

Yet sometimes these sentiments move so quick and so dense,

That even a blank page is too full to hold any sense.

Depending on what it is I write about

It reflects my feelings

Into words.

If I am confused--I write

And I find some comfort in the books I jot down

Even if they are the most horrible books

You have ever read

it induces this inexplicable illusion of serenity

it allows me to breathe

my lungs are empty milk cartons

easily crushed

damp with the memory of the warmth that once filled them

I am an eggshell

anticipating the moment when pure will and adrenaline will no longer hold together this delicate disaster

every step

every swallow

every whisper

is a threat to my existence

but my hands are solid

my fingertips are calloused and raw

these veins hold nothing but ink

pure blue like the night sky just before the stars fade into view

I am not a fragile flower

my weakness is not a beautiful thing

but it is not shameful either

it is human

trace my scribbles with your palm

let your eyes read blind

let your hands feel the emptiness

let me let you touch me

and understand my parchment better than you will ever understand the marks of my skin

What is one to do

when the lives of others are swimming inside you?

Do you let them die?

Why not justify

the lives of those inside your mind?

Why would you not give life unto those in your thoughts?

Let them breathe our air, despite the cost.

Do you have stories, filling your head to the brim?

Write them. Let them be heard.

Whether it's love and life, or death by the Sword.

You ask why I write

and the reason's not completely clear, not even tonight.

But I guess it could be

because I believe

the voices inside your head

are telling you what needs to be read.

What someone needs to hear

in order to calm their fear.

In order to bring happiness

when people are embraced in their/others crappiness (is that a word? Maybe...Oh well.)

And to give life to the characters of my imagination

(With or without their corporation)

I write to inspire

It's my desire

to share the stories stored in my subconscious

even when they are a bit obnoxious

So let's see

Reasons: there are (apparently) three

1.) So my characters can experience life and not die in my mind. So their lives can be relived by others within time.

2.) You never know what could touch someone's heart or make them see something in a whole new light when they've been stuck in the dark.

3.) To inspire someone in any way, no matter what date. No matter what season. To just write, with or without a reason.

I can’t stop.

The first step is admitting

you have a problem but -

what happens when you

don’t want to

go to that rehab?

A drug that enhances

rather than detracts

from the thoughts

rolling raucous

and loud and gloriously

nonsensical in a slideshow

of color and sound

you can’t quite hear but

is somehow still there

and you sit yourself down

and let that nebulous thing

of imagination take wing

and suddenly the chaos

is order.

Is character.

Is setting.

Is plot.

And you just bite

at the bit

and you prance

through that pasture

of crazy ideas

that you just want a chance

to put down on paper

if not for any other reason

then for you just to get

those squealing

and laughing

and screaming

and crying

thoughts to come tum-bl-ing

out of your head.

I started writing to invent an audience that never gets tired of listening to me.

Then I wrote to express words I could not bring myself to share out loud.

Then I wrote to audition things I hoped to say someday.

Now I write to memorialize my mind. It took a long time for me to stop filtering my personal life through my writing first. I write much less than I used to, but I write far better.