Crumbled, wide-rule pieces of paper accumulate in my head,
The paper balls signifying stories deferred,
Gathering dust around and cobwebs spun my brain.

The corners torn with furry,
Tied down by my stories carried out.

When I lay my head down to rest,
They rustle lost and abandoned in my head
With rage they were begging me to complete them.

As I think,
They push new thoughts out of my musing space
Piling them up in enormous stacks,
Creating my often writer’s block.

But within my clustered head
They always talk to me. And they often coax:

“I’m the best idea around,
And I deserve to be written!
So hurry, hurry as fast as you can!
You will write me. You are the writing woman!”

But they hardly leave my memory, for one day I will shape-shift them into form!
But I keep them around, because once I’ve written them
What will be…?

INSIDE MY HEAD!!