I am stagnant.  My pen hovers over paper for an eternity of minutes, before I decide to write this poorly written sentence.  I am stuck.  I am stuck in mind, in-paper, in-making, in-thought, In-Life.  It’s nonsense.  I’m nonsense.  Everything is a bullet to me and I dodge bullets.  I should let them hit me, or pass me or whatever they are meant to do, but Fear takes a lead.  Fear takes The Lead.  That weird kind of fear that doesn’t really feel like fear at all and always comes across to others as Apathy.  The ultimate wasted Time.  I waste so much time standing still.  My pen and paper are like repelling magnets.  The closer they become, the more violent the repellent.  I am aware of the world and I know myself in it.  Why can’t I make it mine?  The Sun goes up and the Sun goes down, my pen stays the same.  The Moon goes up and the Moon goes down, but I’m the same.  Every sunrise, I think.  I feel.  I plan.  I say, “Today is The Day” which becomes The Night and the following day.  And so on.  The orbit of my pen to paper is Mercury to the Sun;  It comes close and gets hot, but never catches fire.  I keep waiting for the paper to expand and engulf my pen.  Instead, I keep hovering a safe and comfortable distance.  I remain here with a bubbling passion, a desire to ignite.  I want to burn, even if it means burn-out.  I want to explode.


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