I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, the patch of sunlight in a tumultuous sky, the oasis in the godforsaken desert, the damned cliché in the blockbuster movie. But somehow I don’t reach for it. Somehow I turn around from it and walk the other way, lingering in my endless grey limbo.
Why? Because I am bum lazy ass motherfucker. Is it that simple? Or because writing tends to bare out my soul, my inner self to the dangerous light that will ripe it to shred…
And then out of nothing came something a flicker of darkness that will conquer the light, the spark that drives us all toward something great, and without it we mellow in mediocrity…
But I fear that soon that spark will flutter and die and the white bleaching, blinding light will conquer all… Again….
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