If the words don't find release, they roll around in the thoughts. They invade dreams. They are the first thing to surface when massaging the head in the morning shower. I do mean the actual head, the part attached to the neck. Men might find a different direction in their thinking.
I'm so fucking weary. I feel too traditional. Imagine, writing gay male romance and feeling traditional.
I want to tell a glorious story, not shock a reader.
And that, kittens, makes me feel old.