Fatigue of a writer

The right idea stands at an arm’s length, waiting to be approved. The other right idea stays in the rear, waiting to arrive. And me stand in the edge of a sinking boat, where the client sits with wide opened mouth like a gaint whale. He wishes to suck me in with a grin. The ship slides in too, looks more eager than me.

Has there been a better hell!

An Ink drop just smudges the white sheet. What once happened to be a kiss, now turns into an unrelenting episode. How could it do that to my paper?

Naughty ink, it wants to make a story. But keyboard types client advts. Keyboards are more like themselves, more clear-headed then an ink. Ink can turn a letter to a creature. Sometimes deciding to take a stroll around the margin too, leaving behind a trail of doodles.

If there is a moment before the  client’s burp, the Moon fades away, a fairy tale dies a silent death, and over the demise of a story writer, the idea is approved.

Time for another paid idea.


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