z3nbyte

There is a lizard coiled tightly around the base of my brain. He loves squeezing and constricting every time I am close to poetic genius or reaching literary orgasm. His little tricks confuse and terrify me, turn my fun into fear and his scritching makes a mess of my yarn. I thumb wrestle with him daily in hopes that this will satisfy his trickster ways my hope is by being just as tricky I will keep him occupied so I can keep creating. It never works I wind up slipping and sliding on the banana peels on the floor that I left for him. Just yesterday he arm wrestled me away from the keyboard and wound up spilling coffee on my shirt. He lives for he times when I am speaking, waxing elegant eloquent philosophical brilliance only to have him steal the words on my tongue as I'm speaking and I wind up a blathering blue streak bore.

I'd like to take lessons in lizard taming so I could work with madcap misguided manner and make some sense. I'd like his grip to loosen so I can breathe and create. He won't let me his fear is that I will be ridiculed, pointed at jeered at and wind up remorseful, bitter in the corner. Tonight he won but at least I got to write this before he woke up.