Three ways to get it out writing words:

Like a an ant building the hill, ready to carry each and every massive grain himself until it is complete. Meticulous in abundance. Elaborate in exactitude. You can write the words with a computer, making each instant sentence perfect before it is thought. You can also lose your mind, I am convinced, by staring at this screen for hours on end.

Or like a fat sullen rain cloud in San Francisco desperation, unsure where the fog ends and she begins. Saturated with emotion. Spilling over with distraction. You can write the words in a journal before and after dreaming, with a preference for during. You can cause or cure insomnia horizontally like this.

Or you can get it out like a prophet. In surrender. In a sneeze. In the middle of a dance, in a leather back book only opened on times like these. With a special symbol burnt into each cover and a revelation on every page. You can write the words that must be written but no one will ever read.

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