burn baby, burn

I sit to write and nothing comes out
I stare at my fingers and await a brilliant rush
A rush to escape in some unorganized manner
That ultimatley makes all the sense in the world
I sit and impatiently wait
Yearning for everything inside to come pouring out

"And I hope you feel it the way I feel it too"

But instead, I'm taken away with the notes in the background
So I'll sit another day and time
And wait for my escape