Can't write a poem right now. Can't figure out the sound, or how the rest of this should look. My phrasings are obvious most times, and don't get me started on my slant rhymes. So what do I have, as a writer, to offer the betters of my peers? Quiet conversation, loud argumentation, fingertips clacking mechanics and a penchant to steer myself across the happy, golden union.
I sometimes forget the only thing holding me down is the force of something much larger than I. It's the firing pistons alive in the mind behind both of my grey-blue faltering like the autumn to the winter eyes.