flooded

dripping words onto blank documents
finding truth in letters
exercising the imagination
using real life as the inception
then walking through scenes like dreams
cultivating an outline for a story i plot
yet discover it at the same time
simultaneously
tremendously
dialogue pulses through my wrists
by way of my heart
my fingers are no match
the letters are much too rapid to catch
so i take what i can get in an outline
not quite 20 pages but tokens of a lifetime
condensed in fragmented snippets
i am the architect of these weathered trinkets
that are soon to be a story
and like all good ones, goes a bit sour
bruised and beaten
a story about a family
about an individual within a family
finding the boundary free limits of one's own perimeters
a story about what it means to be an american dreamer
overcoming
and having to overcome again
inevitably
i hope to fill this document
so i may share with the audience
a man
finding his way home
by way of his own worth
not that of his brother, nor his mother
or even his sister who tells the tale
but of his own merit
only to find
he is, he exists, he lives
because of the people in it