Writers Block

 Writing. How to infuse it with actual energy. Stuffing it. How to lend it flavour. Perhaps that last review was a little drab? By-the-book? It did the trick, it was as I saw it and I didn't lie. 

A complete, an absolutely complete re-organization of me lifestyle may be in order. A complete re-organization of the ins and the outs. The bits, the pieces, the ephemera. The distractions, the didactic pulser. The slurries. The cores and the chores. And Ireland. Whole countries. Whittle. Whittle stick. The palace. The castle. The moors.   

The bores. The moors. The entangled photons. Tinny resonant encounters with sexuality as side-note. A type of sick inducing pee mould, encased around a piece of cotton. It stinks with familiarity that binds the mind tighter and tighter. Uric acid, our fave. 

No, not quite. I didn't. I didn't mean to. Opinion and ego. Why uphold such falsehoods. Who wins? Is it a competition? Is it a fight ? And for what reason - truly I wonder - the point is? We should not fight. Peace, as hackneyed as it  may seem to be, is an imperative now. You know i write simple. I am not an academic. 

I lean on academia here and there. But i am a simpleton at heart. And watch for that cognitive decline. I try my best to polish my out-pourings, but i fail. 

Block, an unfortunate . To be all things to all people. Thats a waste of time. I try to help and encourage people. I want people to be happy.

 

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