The Bloody Doors Off

I’m looking for something to write.

Itching. Burning.

My heart racing.

Searching for words.

There must be something to talk about.

My hands are shaking.

It’s like when you have a full bladder. You know you need to take a pish. Half an hour ago. It’s built up, and you stand there at the urinal, ready to go.

Only. Nothing.

It’s blocked.

And you know. You know.

It’ll break through.

And it’s going to feel amazing.

The flow of words, being typed on the screen.

Sweet. Relief.

So, stop building already.

Dammit.

I’m literally vibrating.

Music. I need music.

And pudding. Christ, I need pudding.