The Writer is Writing

I don't have anything written. I don't have any notes. I'm afraid to open my notebooks. I'm afraid of the evil jerk. There's so much I want to write down; there are ways of writing things down, but there are many incoming words and ideas that obstruct the creative mind. The process is to write what comes to mind, now that your mind can't gather up what was once the idea. This puts the jerk away. I'm watching him play with my ideas. He's the juggler. An evil juggler that sometimes hands me what I want and other times holds what I want dearly with a grip so tight, I slip. I'm the slipping juggler and he is me. I hold things dearly and he holds my thoughts with a grip so tight, I slip. I'm afraid of the evil jerk. I fear the most. He holds them dear. I hold my life in a hold that allows the jerk to know more.