How my unwritten words haunt me

Sometimes I’m tired of the disquiet. There are all kinds of authors of it but they all say the same thing. They may come from different sources or angles but they have only one agenda.

Some say “do.”
Others say “don’t”.
Some say “you will.”
Others say “you won’t.”

Some nudge and nestle and nurse,
While others scream and shout and curse.
Some annoy like a gnat.
Others claw like a cat.

They tear into my back
and tear into my eyes.
They both make my path
a painful reprise.

They persist and resist
all appeals for release.
They beg and insist
but they won’t keep the peace.

They compel and compete,
pushing me back to my seat.
They promise to make light
once I just write…
“this”
or “that”,
“mine”
or “theirs”.

They don’t seem to care
as long as I share…
Their plight,
Their plea,
Their personal mystery.

“Shout it from rooftops!
Scribe it in secret!
Post it in public!
Then I’ll grant you release!

Don’t flatter, beguile, lie or deceive.
Simply say it, admit it…
Out with it!,
Never mind if you please!”

“I’m your words and your curse.
I’m anxious and need to disperse!
Don’t bind me,
hinder me,
block me
or it’ll be worse!”

“Your tongue is yours.
Your hand is mine
and I’ll give you no rest
til you finish that line!”

“I’m your words,
not your deeds!
I’m your past. I’m your present,
your future in seeds!

Spread me,
sprinkle me,
toss me at sea!
I require, request, nay, demand I go free!”

“Now that you’ve met me,
your life will be easy.
Always I’ll run.
Always I’ll flee.”

“Despite this and with this, I’ll mock you;
your job is to chase me,
catch me
and always agree!”

That disquiet I mentioned? That’s its mantra and its song. Considering how defiant I am, how much I hate to run, and how I detest grabbing at the wind, capturing and releasing it should prove anything but comfortable and carefree.

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