Writers Block.
By FaeSinner
Smoke swirls creating mists that mirror insubstantial thought. Trapped in time that knows no momentum I struggle uselessly at this prison that envalopes me. Senses spent I know not why I exsist. Only that I have and shall again. The identity of this moment escapes me. Fingers locked in frantic embrace. Oh merciless opponet no longer are you an extension of my will, you are the final struggle between true expression and failure to comply with this deep passionate yearning to write, create, now. Tepid coffe is sipped absent mindedly Me thinks...... Bugger. Written November 18th, 2001 © on Nov 17 2001 08:33 PM PST 0 • 10
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"Smoke swirls creating..."