The Muse

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I can’t think straight.

These words, I don’t know what to do with them. They’re tumbling around my head, giving me a headache.
They’re all over the place and I can’t seem to catch them.
I can’t put them on paper, I can’t tell them to slow down and be quiet.
Some are screaming at me, others barely a whisper.
My eyes water uncomfortably.
I can taste the words, they burn my nasal passage and cause me to cough.
They get stuck in my throat and I scream in frustration.
They somehow tumble out in the wrong order and by the time I look at them, they’re gone.
My paper is a blank canvas ready for my pen.
My hand itches, so I scratch it and some letters seep out.
I smear my hand over my paper and a smorgasbord of unintelligible mumblings spatter to the four corners.
I put my head down and stop.
Stop thinking, stop breathing, stop moving.

Be still.

A deep breath calms my thoughts and I look up.
Colors spread out in front of me,
violet, turquoise, black, cardamom orange, hot pink.
Each as vivid as life.
My body is now composed and ready to write.
 






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