I write all the time. In my head.
Maybe I’m crazy. I don’t know. I forgot the definition.
Is it crazy to write poetry, songs and prose in your head every minute of the day
Well in between the forced labor.
I try to focus. It’s the most difficult thing I do. Distract myself from the words that come.
And the melodies. God the melodies. You should hear them. Beautiful. Rockin.
They just come. I wish I could wear ear muffs to muffle the sound. . . . but it comes from within.
Maybe I should see a doctor. Maybe he or she could design a muffler to stop the sounds from my brain to my ears.
If they could do that, I would go lay on the beach for 4 days. I would listen to the ocean and think of nothing.
But I go back to my computer and type in the spreadsheets. And hear the melodies pushing through and the words banging on my eardrum.
And I wish for the beach.