Scripturient Addictions

Let me tell you who this one is for.

This one is for you if you may possibly have tried other drugs but are convinced beyond any doubt that no material stimulant can ever take you to the cosmic levels of elation that the simple act of putting pen to paper(or finger to keyboard) does.

For the scripturient tendencies within you,
those moments when the words flow freely and wipe out any other thing in the world except that message you  so desperately need to convey.
For the zombie you have been known to become; oblivious of all else except the vast universe your mind begs you to explore with the sentences you keep stringing.

For that empty feeling when the sentences string themselves into a complete story.
The writer's hangover.
That hollowness because after giving a piece your all you feel drained:
mentally, emotionally, possibly physically.
And that lingering blank space where you ask yourself,
'so what next?'

This is for you who sneaks to the bathroom at the most awkward of times and hate to admit publicly that it is while taking a dump that some of your greatest stories have been crafted.
For those sneaky sneaky writing habits that remind you of those sneaky sneaky habits other substance abusers have.
For those moments your style of expression has had you questioning your sanity.

But this poem is also for you if you are suffering from withdrawal symptoms.
The tormentous mental  torture of writer's block.
When you crave to reach that peak but the words refuse to take you there because they just wont allow themselves to find you this time.
Fear not,
because in the dead of the night, they will whisk you away and you will find yourself unable to stop writing them down and when it is over, Armstrong will have nothing on you in terms of achievement because that masterpiece you create feels like the ultimate.

Sometimes the craft may even give you a high that will have you hallucinating.
So this is also for you if you may or may not have practiced your Pullitzer Price Acceptance Speech in the mirror a few thousand times.
Or if you already have a secret Pinterest board titled Caine Prize Winner Gala Outfit Ideas.
Or you already know what tropical island vacation you will spend your Nobel Prize Cash Award on.
And it is particularly for you if you know your friends and family will disown you if you ever shared the above fantasies with them but you still dare to have them anyway.

So this is for the day-dreamers
Whose dreams live a little everytime they write them down.
For the artistic misfits who know not many understand their craft but keep writing anyway.
For the introverts whose multiple personalities are revealed with every beautifully structured sentence strung together.
For the sanguine yet silent sapiosexuals whose immense intellect comes to play when they stare at a blank page.

This poem is for weirdos like me- writers with wandering minds that are only found behind walls painted white with black characters.

May the wells of words in our pens never run dry.