WordsandWordsand

The cursor is blinking at me, demanding words. It's hungry.

Eat this, cursor.

One at a time they shuffle past and demand my attention
I can't look at them all at once
Three eyes aren't enough
Seven percent of my brain isn't enough

This will take some time
I'm busy
And lazy
And apathetic
And (insert random synonym)
And there's never an end

I like it when my hands aren't my own
When things flow free
And the words write themselves.

Not like now.


M. PotPie