Story tugs at your shirt
Firm grip on your neck
Strangling you
Slowly
Time to die
.
No, not die
Perhaps time to kill
Time to take a knife
Slaughter laziness
On the altar of words
.
For, atimes, dear
You don’t kill something
Yet something kills you
.
Pick up your pen
Yank your shirt
Off the story’s grip
Take a breath
Long and deep
.
Write and live
You’ll not die today
You’ll not die tomorrow
.
Come and gone
When work’s done
And story dies
May we all dine
With bottles of wine
.
(To think I started out writing the above as an article… #Shaking_My_Head )
~~~
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