The hottest writing day of the year

And we have nothing to fear

But fear itself

And the outpouring

Of boring words

That will win no awards

And won’t even take us back to our youth

But forwards to our speedy end,

My friend.

Writing at speed

Lacks heed

Less haste

Is a waste

And I need the speed

To feed the greed

For my wordie creed,

Plant an idea within the mind

Water it daily

Or forget about it completely

And see what happens

Or be surprised at the precise moment

That nothing does.


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