Write until you can’t fucking stand it anymore.

Write until your hands are shaking and your head is shaking
and the number two pencil in your clenched
teeth snaps into shards, until you’re chewing
wood and lead and all the words left inside
your head because you just can’t stand
to write anymore.

Write until you scream, until you throw computer
animated fits of epic proportions, too upset
to put another pen to paper, because you’re just
done with writing.

Write until you’ve covered every inch
of space in your one-bedroom apartment
in the downtown student ghetto with poetry,
with fiction, non-fiction, essays, rants, raves,
sexual fantasies of the kinkiest things you can
not tell anyone you know about, not even
your best friend, especially not your mother.

Write until you feel your head throb,
your ears pulse, your fingers sing,
your stomach clench and retract,
your insides revolve out.

Write in your sleep, write in the shower,
write love poems in your breakfast cereal,
horror stories at work, comedies on the bus ride home.

Write until you’re sure you have nothing left to say,
until you can’t read without throwing up, until it’s all
a mess of squiggles and wiggles and Jell-O Jigglers on the page.

And then, just when you flick the lighter
and hold it up to the book collection on your wall . . .

Stop.

And write some more.

A/N: First line popped into my head on the way home tonight and I realized how perfectly it fit with this month's Writing Challenge Contest, the prompt of which was, "Writing comes more easily if you have something to say." And thus, my entry was born. And more than that, it's me, and I want everyone to truly KEEP WRITING.