Everyone has written everything. There is nothing left to write. All the words are used and I am casting about for topics left write about. Every time I think of something it immediately sounds trite and cliched. Yeah I can't sleep - so can't half the world and they've all already written about how each dark second becomes a lonely hour. They've written about longing, and wishing and hoping, waiting and worrying into the dawn. They've told all the tales of sitting, working, drunk with exhaustion from the night before.
They've used up all the words and there are none left for me that haven't already been chewed over millions of times before.
No comments:
Post a Comment