22 Jun I want to write something great
I want to write something great, because I’m tired of being just okay at many things.
I want to write something great because I like the look of my name on a piece of paper.
I want to write something great because I want you to remember me.
I want to write something great because I want one of those bios on the back of a cover that shows my face all suave like and makes you think I know something.
I want to write something great because I have time. T.I.M.E. Time. And what else am I going to do with it?
I want to write something great because I don’t want to waste your time T.I.M.E. and I don’t want to blab about nothing no one cares about.
I want to write something great because language is an artform that I began at nine months and have been practicing ever since and something that has been practiced for that long ought to be mastered by now, and I want to prove to you I can.
I want to write something great because I’m scared if I don’t, I won’t matter. That the space between my head and my hands is only a place for holding my lungs and jointing my arms and that the space beneath my sternum will fail to have significance, that the thump thump is a figment of my imagination and that I should go on living as if the blood in my body circulates by itself.
I want to write something great, because I know if I put enough letters on a page, that by chance, those great words will flow out and my heart will have the pen and paper that I have denied it for so long and it will reach out and do things that I am too scared to let it do.
I want to write something great because I want to show you what’s inside, but, B.U.T, but, I’m scared that if you peek inside you will reject it, step on it, or worse, ignore it completely.
I want to write something great because the longing grows, to hold a gaze in a way that is all at once terrifying and wonderful, where we dive through pupils and into the depths of darkness where time slows and space disperses and we know the infinite, lose all pretenses, see the irises, and drop to the floor and laugh until we have wept and fallen asleep from exhaustion.
I want to write something great because my heart has something to say and I haven’t figured out what it is yet and if I write words that make sense, or draw tears from someone’s eyes I will know that I’ve accomplished it that it is done D.O.N.E. done and I will have said it.
I want to write something great because it must be a reflection of my insides and my insides, although hot, slimy and fleshy, are life and L.I.F.E life is why you’re here with me, spending this T.I.M.E. reading these words that make up sentences that form noises from a throat, a voice inside your head and tells you I’m here, I’M HERE!
I want to write something great because I’m here, you’re here, we’re here and I want you to know the mystery of it, to experience the beauty of it, to H.E.A.R. hear each syllable with lettering, imagery, and meaning, a cacophony of evolving forms of movement of lips, knowledge of culture, contraction of muscles, expanding of breath, of keys on keyboards, and the creation of history as each syllable ends.
I want to write something great because I want it to be a reflection of me.