Standoff...

A blank page is so disrespectful. It looks at you, defiant and proud. Clean. Just waiting for you to paint the picture. But when your mind is as blank as the page in front of you all the emptiness just leaves room for frustration to crawl its sneaky ass into your mind. Fucker.
So I got a plan. I’m going to keep soiling this page with my words until a story forms. I’m going to be as persistently, blindly flagrant as this blank page. I wish I could just throw a pail of genius on the page and cover it in its entirety. Then throw the next page up to do the same. But you have to be methodical with these pages, cover it line by line, inch by inch, word by word until it drowns in your thoughts. You have to watch while it fades into the sea like the villain and disappears into the pool of lava until his index finger is the last thing slowly sinking in.
This is the standoff. Me and you Page. I’m going to sit here until I dress you to my liking. Or at this point, dress you at all, because I’ve let you remain naked too long. At this point your outfit doesn’t matter. You’ll wear what I tell you to wear.
I’ve been subordinate too long. I waited for you to come to me. I waited for you to then validate me. I’m taking control now – of you and myself. I will focus here. I will decide my pace or I will sit here and stare at each other until I feel I’ve concentrated on one thing for a sufficient amount of time.
You’ve been winning. But I’m gonna take this thing back. Inch by Inch until you’re as filled as I know my mind is.