Because I Love to Write

the world spins.
slow, steady.
air fills, air collapses.
memories.

i have something to say
so i write
i have nothing to do
so i write
i am very very afraid
so i write
i hope for a better tomorrow
so i write

everything tumbles
sometimes i am confused
the blurs are mountains in my mind,
molehills blown out of proportion
yet the eponymous ephemeral moment
of these words, these letters,
the writer's codex,
the poet's spinning tornado

i do not know what else to do
so i write
i have too much to do
so i write
i am lonely
so i write
i have many friends
so i write

casting out my net into a sea
filled with people who maybe
will be drawn by the right letters
in the right order

i write because it is my everything
because it is how i contain my soul
when my soul is screaming, flying,
running away from me with melodious intent

i write because i must
i write, most importantly,
because i love to write