Writing is a risk if you actually give a shit. It’s ripping open your chest cavity exposing all the blood, guts, wires, circuits, and vulgar sludge. You must be open, disturbingly open. Spreading wide your fears, further than you’ll allow, snapping tendons and breaking bones. The self mutilation of your walls becomes a slit wrist orchestra, symphonically tragic. Let your words undress you, seducing the lovers you’ll never caress. Fucking them in soft mattress typed sheets inked madness. Skin touch tattooed scribbled paragraphs create erotic tension between the mind and heart. Let loose like cannons pointed at mirrors. Boom! Shattered! Write like you are about to explode.