A shitty writer in NYC

In NY writing was imposed by the intensity of the city. 

While at home 

the temple that held silence.

In NY the writer is invaded by the intensity of the city.

Like a summer storm, under development.

Its people,

Narrow streets and tall buildings,

Inundated by the defying day to day,

Puzzling accents, intoxicating noises.

NY begs your senses, and you write 

because you wanna get it out of your 

system.

Words pile up like traffic jam and slowly 

transfer to paper or the writer's laptop. 

Words translating a subway ride scene, a 

deli order or taxi ride home.