Is writing a structured, mechanical process, with laws and conventions which must be observed?

In a word, yes. But in another word, no.

I cannot, will not, try to design the grammatical, orthographic straightjacket which binds and pinches.

If I seek to read a manual, an instruction leaflet, clear unambiguous neutral text is appropriate. Fine.

I prefer the liberation, the inspiration, the sublimation that creative flights of fancy can provide.

Should your wish be to transport your reader to a higher state of being you must share your heart.

You must share your soul. You must feel. You must ache. You must bleed. You must rejoice.

On the page.

You must rage.

You can strut your words upon the paper stage.

You can age. Rampage. Strain the bars, break free from the cage.

Zip, skip, flip. Let it rip! Take a trip.

Bang, clang, boomerang.

Self-conscious soul-searching, counting syllables, checking form,  constrains expressive freedom.

Are colons better than semi-colons? Is a pint better than a half? How punctiliously thirsty are you?

If the trees obscure the woods, and obsessive detail robs your creative soul of spontaneity, you fail.

Clear your brain. Reboot your synapses. Shriek. Wail. Howl. Roar. Emote. Float your boat.

To Hell with authoritarian literary tyranny. Consign the minutiae to Pandora’s box, or the Stocks.

Just be YOU.

Hello, World, this is me. No trappings of Poesy. Raw, rough, crude. I speak. Do you listen?