forgive me mum but it’s begun;
frustration’s taken hold,
behold!

been sitting here
a day or year
just waiting to get old…

blood-shot eyes again,
you comprehend?
no **** she’s on the ***

and grasp that ballpoint pen,
again
I hope she’s got a plot

I'm quite sorry
no plot for me,
I’m simply not that able

I’ll spit some views,
I’ll sip some *****,
make poems out of fables

it’s really not that
interesting,
but something in me’s beckoning

to write write write!
so I’ll write write write
while you sleep and work and eat and live;

I won’t eat or sleep or work
I live
to write write write
and I write to live