The Write Words
I write some more.
Words dragging themselves squalling out of my mind.
Oh dear, a bit overly emo?
So I write
And my fingers lumber over the keyboard.
I stagger to the top of a scraggly hill,
The rock-strewn path nicks my shins.
Nicks and knickers? Uh-whuh? That was random.
The sun floods down, blasted idiotic pretentious star.
It’s hot! Too hot! Why am I still writing words?
A melted schoolgirl along a mountain pass,
Only identified by a gook-stained plaid skirt.
At least it wasn’t a Giant Squid.
But I keep ...