Odd Turf

I am a perfectionist. ntil perfect i cannot present. I shall not be a writer, for a writer knows what to do and does it. He feels it in his heart. He has confidence in his words. I have none of these. I am muddled, and cluttered and odd and i can't finish anything for fear of its begining. I can't even spell right. But do i care? Hell no! That is why i live here in Prokulpia, a land, my land, the land of free verse. Just odds and ends. No beginnings just middles. And interwoven intimately into the very fabric of my words a careless randomness that may chose to give birth to wonderful literary creations.....or not. But i don't care! Prokulpia is my land! the land of Free Verse. Anything goes cause i say it will. It is my land to the out.