The constant arranging and rearranging of words in my head.

I must find the right fit, the rhythmic flow of words.

Aha! I have found them. I franticly write the cluster of words

on the walls of my mind. I step back and admire the years of graffiti

there; Beautiful.

However, like the cells in my body, the old must shed and make room.

I  shall release my words from my ever constricting walls of consciousness.

I allow my pencil to whisper my words onto my paper; sweet release.

The walls are bare again. Maybe not, beacause where'd I get these words.