A Fart in Church

I've been trying to avoid the endless parade of excuses for why this site keeps on looking to have life but then goes back into hibernation just a few days later, or why my writing career appears staler than a slice of bread that got lost in the basement couch. No matter any attempted reasoning like trying to stop Danika from flinging herself into a chasm or being caught between a boulder of depression and a bonfire of anxiety or that I simply don't write fast enough to keep a story hot, the truth is still that I've got a swarm of ideas that are birthed every single day that I'm constantly suppressing. I'm keeping them buried deep in the bowels despite the bubbling and rumbling. I've got the press my cheeks hard against the wood and just power it all out to allow the tremors to shake through the pew, the lady in the flower dress turn to me with a sour face, cause the person beside me to shove a notches to the left, the pastor up at the pulpit to lose his train of thought, and the rotten eggs waft through the congregation violating innocent noses. I've got to dare to lose friends and reveal all that brewing was putrid and risk the entrances to be boarded up the moment they catch word I'm returning. There is the chance that one nose sucking up those fumes leads to that person being inspired and suddenly realizing that the containment can't continue and freedom of expression needs to rule. Even if failing that, it is an utter relief to allow a release that is months or years overdue.