The Copywriter
By iznogoud
'THE COPYWRITER' Sometimes my words float like butterflies. A beacon light to the moths. But the moths are not morons. Nor am I in conjugal bliss with them. I travel, nevertheless. The grain of the paper blots the lamina of my pen. Miles of reams. Selling dreams. A mirror of life it seems. My ambitions lean on their aspirations. My nourishment wedded to their seduction. It's a symbiotic game. For money. For fame. But, you're as good as your last job. Or the moths shall seek a brighter light. - Iznogoud Written May 11th, 2001 © on Nov 04 2001 11:20 PM PST 10 • 0 • 12
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"'THE COPYWRITER' ..."