This is what I CAN write
The difference between what I can write and what I want to write oftentimes lives in a fog.
A confusing mass of thoughts, feelings, urges, inspirations…
It’s false starts.
And sudden stops.
An elusive intensity, bobbing and weaving around words that seek to pin it down.
It’s tantalizingly close.
And excruciatingly far away.
There’s a panacean need to find the right way to explain it all.
It’s naive hope.
And niggling doubt.
On occasion, the fog briefly lifts and I can wrest control of the words and bring them out.
It’s too much.
And not even nearly enough.
Still, I keep reaching.
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