Being Write

If only we could stop all this talking.
If I could explain myself only with pen and paper I could get a lot more done.
A lot more across.
But I can't. In the midst of an arguement, I wish I could pull out pen and paper.
Or those giant poster size writing pads you see in meeting rooms of big companies.
Men and women drawing charts and diagrams, writing "main ideas" and "goal oriented projects".
Words like "the big picture" and "the bottom line" written on them, with arrows and lines
criss crossing from idea bubble to idea bubble. Those pads would be perfect.
Instead of discussing our feelings or processing our emotions through "talks" or "meetings" we would bring out these giant note pads and screech those markers left, right, up, down and diagnal until we got our point across.
We could flip the page when we ran out of room with one big swoop of the arm, and continue our rant. Or easily refer back a few pages to a previous arguement only to strengthen our current one. I could map my feelings through a flow chart and keep my ideas straight, understand the process by which I get to a certain feeling or action. If this were possible I could easily make my self understood. I could easily communicate the ideas and emotions that sit trapped in my body.
But I can't.
I am forced to use words.
They get caught in my throat
when they form at all.
And I choke.
My ideas get tangled up in an elaborate web of cords, string and wire.
I spend most of my time trying to free my arms and legs from the complexity of emotions, sentiments tethered around my body restricting mobility.
Thought
to words
to mouth.
I studder.