Free Writing

Sometimes I get nervous about putting my words down on paper
like once they’re written and re-read they’re no longer a fragment of my imagination
They’re real. 
For other people to take in, to judge. 
For myself to revisit, scrutinize. 
It scares me. 
Sometimes I like to just let them bounce around in my head for a while 
allowing them to fester, to take on a life of their own 
before they are written out, jailed on the page. 
I would go days, sometimes weeks not writing
Thoughts of my pieces not being “good enough” 
to whose standards I was worried about? 
Unknown. 
My own? 
I needed to create a space for myself
a safe space to write
to let my ideas run wild
I needed to feel free to paint
the page with whatever colors
I deemed appropriate
letting those words out of my head
little amoebas free
To take on another life on the page. 
To be absorbed by someone else.
Twisting, changing form
to be analyzed by someone else’s microscope
re-purposed in someone else’s mind.