when in doubt,write

I feel as if I'm shrinking,when I've no words left to write. When I put pencil to paper and only manage silly poems that sound like Taylor Swift garbage. When I open an empty Word document and feel the keyboard uncooperative,a story spewing into nothingness-but there is a need to express,something wild and sizeless to convey,something inside me spilling out in droves.

1. I write emails to certain people,share little nuggets of the bizarre,interesting things in my life.

2. I listen to what people are saying,read their body language.There is a certain melody that people don't realize they exert-folded arms,fingers wide apart,eyes hazy with doubt-I observe these things,and the characters in my head,those fictional animals of otherworld-come alive in gestures.

3. The kind of things you see when you first take up "Serious Photography".I am sometimes distracted by the view in my car's side mirror,a long road receding engulfed into an orange sunset. Sometimes I find poignancy in these dull,common views and wish I could reinvent them into something more special,take them and amplify their beauty in the form of a wonderful sentence,a blurry sepia picture,something just something.

So there I am,every morning and every night,a man taking mental pictures,sometimes scribbling wistful nothings into his notebook,smiling or laughing or crying: I am a man with an outside form,but all the things that are jostling and alive,are inside.

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