I want to write.
And just keep writing.
People say everyone who
writes wants to write a book eventually.
That it is the common
ultimate goal.
But it isn’t mine.
And I’m hardly uncommon.
I don’t want to be told
that I should write a book.
And I don’t want you to suggest
I write for a living.
I don’t want to write by
their stops and starts.
But I do want to write.
And just keep writing.
I've been writing of late
So much, so varied
I don't get why you do
Oh but you do, so much.
I just want to write
To know what I'm thinking
And find some release
And just keep writing.
Maybe I think too much.
Maybe I think too
distractedly.
Maybe I just imagine that I
think more than you do.
Or differently from you.
Or about different things.
But I’m thinking all the
time.
About all sorts of things.
And I need to talk about it
all.
As I do.
But before I talk to you of
it
I want to sort it out.
Alone, by myself
In my mind.
Not because you don't help
But because it calms me down
Knowing your mind feels better than not.
It's rarely ever profound
And hardly ever permanent
But it's thought
And it's mine
For I just kept writing.
For that I must write
And write by myself
Without calls and queries
About parameters for
analysis
And schedules for the week.
How would it be, to switch
off entirely?
To disappear
In the open
To be unavailable.
It’s been far too long
And I still have years to
go
And much as I want you
around
So much that it can ache
I want to do this on my
own.
