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
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.