go wild. do not let your mind stop your hand.
you are stagnating.
the waters are still.
but if you drag the tip of your pen across the cheap paper you, pretender poet, bought yesterday as a fit of impulses told you that you could be worldclass if you just write, just write... deep breath. just write.
the frustration moves your hand, it writes a crude mess of thoughts that youve spent half an eternity trying to pretty up, to present to the masses.
but these words are not pretty, they do not invoke some grand image of a magical world.
but they are yours, and they are true.
so pick up the pen and drag its tip across the paper. dont think,
just go wild.
eh
