I am a writing fool. I know I’m stressed when I begin to think in posts. Words and thoughts splattered on my ceiling. Ideas. Thoughts. All careening together. If I do not hurry I might miss one. Probably already have as its too fast. As I write them I think they are amazing and weave a poetic masterpiece. I don’t read or edit. Just type as fast as possible and capture the fire within. Perhaps they make no sense. Perhaps they are full of wonderment and awe. When words come at me, speak to me, begin to tell a story I didn’t know was coming I find that fascinating. i give in to the word show that graces my ceiling as sleep escapes me. Not quite fireworks. I guess a literary explosion.