Once in a while

Don't you feel flamed or vexed, while unable to produce the exact words to befit your emotions or to let out the feeling suppressed within yourself to release this urgency of explaining the inexplicable or the clamour of thoughts. To render words which would form into to perfectly coherent sentences, its edges rounded and trimmed. Words which would support each other, assembling itself to frame a sentence which sounds distinct to ears and its syntax and grammar. Do you not crave for the seldom alliteration and anaphora to be innate in your writing.

Does not your sentence leave you with a feeling of sitting on a couch, uncomfortable; or donning a gown that you can't carry. Such are the times when I feel like diving into a fat book and swim in its content to understand the mechanics of writing, and to dissect the content words and the function. To say aloud the sound of each consonant and understand its altered effect and meaning to the sentence. To merry the mechanics of writing and satiating the outburst of letting the quill rundown its path flawlessly without rummaging the vocabulary to its every pocket.

Do you like the sodden bread crumbs in your soup. Insipid and unpalatable.