Spilling Ink

Ripping up the rule book has never seemed so tempting. Cutting, scratching, scribbling, tearing into little pieces. I cut between the lines carefully, ignoring the urge. I take strips of paper and line them up, sticking my tongue out in concentration. I paste the words over a piece of cardboard, leaving some spaces in between to be added to later. I brush small bits of paper off my lap and onto the floor. I nod with satisfaction, and lean the project on the wall to dry. I'll outline the spaces tomorrow.

I walk out of the room, leaving it quiet and empty. The light shining in through the opened blinds cover the carpeted floor, giving the room a dream-like quality. The project on the wall sits there, motionless, yet brilliant in it's ordered chaos.

"I WAS NEVER ONE FOR RULES"