Down Deep

I hate freestyle.
I don’t like writing without form.
I live for form. It represents years of practice.
Years of reading, reflecting, writing, reflecting, editing, and then reflecting some more.
Form is about work. Work that I have done for you.
Form means I had the courtesy to clean things up, so you will not have to sift through garbage, my garbage.
Isn’t that the agreement? The world wants things cleaned up.
Yes, I understand where I am supposed to take you.
But isn’t that the route you naturally go? Aren’t you trying to find that route now?
You’re trying to find the meaning in this, aren’t you? The story. My point.
Well, my friend, I don’t have one.
If you want dirty, then filthy is what you’ll get.
You will get nonsense.
You will get mistakes.
No rules.
No forethought.
No promise between you and me.
No trust.
I will have no lesson for you.
Nothing meant to entertain.
What you’ll get is raw.
My feelings are laid bare for you to examine.
To sift through and take from.
You’ll decide what to keep, and you’ll toss things without any consideration for what they may be worth to me.
Because this is not about me anymore, this is not about us.
I’ll let you see what’s “down deep.”
I just don’t think you have a right to it.
We are in uncharted territory.
Which begs the question, why are you following me?
Why keep reading if there will be no payoff?
I will have no lesson for you.
No piece of wisdom to make you think.
There will be nothing new.
One blind man following another.