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The Writer's Bane
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This empty knot inside my chest
What is it?
We have all felt it
Its draining and mockingly cavalier
This thing in my chest is holding on so tight, so dear
What is it?!
How do I cast out this monster of dullness?
The progenitor of madness, the paladin of insignificance
How do I rob it of its trivial promenade?
To stop it would be a blessing
To kill it a miracle
To wrench it out form within my chest
Seems to cost a lifetime of diligent work and labor
This retched fiend which is so blissfully sucking the creativity right out from my precious marrow
I could impale it; I could feed it the poisons of the world, anything to end its parasitic conquest of my waning body
But coincidentally if it dies by my hand, the product of such an act is commutative
So what do I do?
I could read it Daniel Steel, I could force it to listen to those three brothers we all know and hate
But would it hurt it or me?
The questions are numerable and the outcomes infinite
O god how do I kill it!?
I wish it was out of me, do I stop its rampage with the sweet nullifications of modern medicine, sleep it off in one drug induced coma?
Or should I just be the man I am supposed to be and rip it out with my bared hands
Strangling it as it gasps for the caress my bodies blood
But the more it is pondered the more the answer seems to become prevalent.
Writeabout the thing that is eating at you, express its monotony through the written word
Beat it at its own game, turn its strengths against it
Kill the writers nemesis, end its insane games
MURDER THE UNCOUTH HEATHEN! Log in to see images!
Anonymous
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Anonymous Posted:
Diarrhea.
Anonymous
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