They say writing is the purest form
of communicating with yourself ,
so why do people shy from doing it? 
Why do others use so many distractions 
to hide, from facing what’s in their mind? 

From what I gather; I’d love to chat with Hemingway,  
or listen to Steinbeck ramble after a third pint, 
or discuss hope with Maya Angelou, read the lost 
journals of H.G Wells, and sing along with Mathew
as he jots down parables.

But at this time, 
as I write,
I’m happy to know I’m not boring, 
and could talk to myself everyday.