my words cannot be locked away to ruled paper like a convict to a cell, whistling a tune to maintain sanity
not just about melodies and bars. sheet music & tablature resemble feelings being scribbled into symbols. creating sounds.
felt, lived, experienced, breathed and yes, also written with a pen, not in any particular order nor arrangement, format nor text.
my feelings are bled from a pen like the blood of fallen soldiers, filling pools of letters & words that form paragraphs on pages.
this army of words will fall subject to no one.
no king nor queen.
no dictator nor tyrant.
no government nor rule.
no, not even the rule of college nor wide that so often murders creativity in cold blood, attempting to control the chaos that is inside my balding head...