I want to write today.

And for anyone who cares to read this, maybe I won't waste your time.

But I don't want your time maybe better spent elsewhere than on meaningless words and troubled thoughts.

I don't want to be whimsical, or cute, full of some enriching statement.

I just want to write, for writings sake.

I do want to write things people will remember, to be happy and better that they've known my opinions and words of some wisdom.

But, would you find wisdom, here?

There's greater writers of that, if enlightenment is what you need.

How could I give you that, when I don't know what the word really means.

What are these words?

Who created them?

Who put them in my mouth, compelled me to write them?

How could I feel compelled to have somehting to say when I'm drowning in confused and dead end phrases?

Is it writer's block?

Or do I really have nothing to say?

Am I rambling, or do I have a point?

I know there's points to be made, as what are things without meaning, some sort of endgame?

Even right now, this is no stream of conciousness. The words struggle to come out having no path to go. My mind doesn't know how to fill up this page.

Start, stop, start, again stop.

I'm getting tired, sick of this motion or lack thereof.

My hand is cramping, yet I'm not done yet.

Was I done when I started?

What am I saying?

Knowing and not knowing are they really so different?

Stopping and starting is it all just part of the process?

Will I talk in questions the rest of my life?

Or shall I take it all at face value and never wonder?

Now I'm afraid of my ability to convey these words out in the open like this, and what it does to me.

What it does to the people who'll read these creations.

I just want to write, but sometimes there's really nothing to say.

And everything to leave unsaid.