Sometimes I really want to write, but I don't know what to say.
There are a dozen ideas running around in my head,
yet none of them seem like the thing to write about tonight.
I try to write them out.
It comes out jumbled.
I know that nothing I write tonight will make much sense to my readers,
but I wanted to try anyway.
My soul needs to say something
but it's not sure what.
Hopefully my soul will be more coherent tomorrow.
But tonight, it's feeling kinda like this:
Maggie Michael, Hunter (Mars), 2006