Structure/process--the reasons why

They say write what you know. What I know is this: I don't know much. I might even say I don't know anything. That's impossible, though. I know falseness. I know structures.

I am not the down-and-dirty type. I'd rather be comfortable on my square of rug. I'd rather not risk a limb. I'd rather get away from the vomit and the stench. I'd rather not claw at the ceiling. I've had enough out-of-body experiences.

What I know is this: I'd rather let inspiration pass through my eyelids and turn into sleep. I'd rather ignore plot, conflict, resolution.
I'd rather sleep.

But if I sit still, on my square of rug, someone will corner me. Someone will put a glass jar over me. They will bring their face close to mine and whimper in my ear, seeking salvation or just release. So I will tap on the jar, tap on it so that it rings out, put my ear up to it to feel the vibration, pen what I feel along the surface.

I know this: If I build a brick wall around myself, I will lose my mind inside the mortar. There will be nothing to hear. If I don't write, my journal will remain empty. Reminders of the past will become a burden. The blank pages a weight, thoughts an anchor. Sourness will overcome, wrinkling my eyes and mouth.

I know this; the kinds of structures we build determine what we see and hear. Glass, brick, air. I tap and tap, listening, feeling, inhaling.