Wednesday, 15 April 2015
NaPoWriMo 15
Dear Writer,
Please stop. You make me a misery.
This page is full to the very brim,
saturated with sadness and bloated
with mirthless miasma.
Your pen is a slow spillway of
self-pity. The ink a deluge
of woe. I have become your
very worst invention.
A bullet to the foot, or a
smart-ass slipper of concrete.
You've fashioned me from guilt
and a manipulating shape.
This is not love. Just artless piss
toward the wind. Sit back.
Take pause. The cause is long lost
so stop writing shit.
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