The Writer’s Hustle

These thoughts ricochet against my cranium without a single care
These thoughts clatter and clang in my head, creating a ruckus so noisy, some peace and quiet is rare.
Funny though, how the walls of my cranium seem to have developed a soundproof quality
For the strands of hair on my scalp are none the wiser of the ongoing racket right beneath them.
These thoughts command my attention, full focus and the movement of my limbs.
These thoughts partially maim me, as I do not wish to cause them further agitation by any form of ambulation.
Oh how I yearn to escape this cacophony, but for just a few minutes,
To savor the peace and quiet I so crave.
Threaten to consume my being, oh yes they do.
A humorless laugh escapes my lips as interruptions from external sources now seem the preferred peace and quiet.
These thoughts incarcerate me and keep me captive
But I refuse to be penned in by thoughts I can pen down before they overturn me
For my quill acquits me.
And unlike the pencil that does not seal penned down thoughts,
I patronize inks and their ilk, and you can’t fault me.
Perchance, if they are unable to pen down these thoughts that assail me,
They may at least paint the pages of my booklet with some color
For in the mere expression of my thoughts, I find freedom
Or do I ?
These thoughts!

9 thoughts on “The Writer’s Hustle

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.