Let It Out

There is a way that words
fall onto paper like the tears
of the rainstorm
in the spring

The way that they flow
like a river, overflowing
from the sources, unable to 
contain its multitudes 

How sometimes there are
dry spells that seem to go on
forever until they are over
and forgotten amidst floods

Words that soak into your soul
your skin your heart your bones
never letting go of your blood
and your brain

It's these times when the outside 
world might as well not exist for
there are things that need to 
be written and written and written

This is all to say that when I say I am busy 
sometimes what I mean is that there is
something within me that will not be quiet until it 
is freed upon the page like water off a duck's back