alcoholic writing anonymous
Step in time find a rhyme work it to your will and if your lucky you will find the words will start to spill from the glass or the canvas whatever you wish to call the piece of matter where words will splatter from your hand as they are scrawled. There is nothing tasteful, maybe disgraceful about this facade we call an art, there are no pictures there is no diction, yes our whole lives are lived in fiction, the prologue leads to the first line a paragraph and then more wine, a bottle empties and we will find the chapter is winding down. So we uncork the next, put to the test the ink we inevitably detest, the poison hurts and yes it burns but it's not so bad anymore, and maybe these lines are in decline and chapter two just won't be fine, the editors will read the slurrs and know the fuel for the fallout. We're all just drunks with pens in hand we like to think we're in demand of every leak that leave their tips but we're hopefully lost out of touch- our fingers do not control this, and our minds have overblown this, if you poured the drink on paper i think you would find something just as fine, the words will race the wine, but really what is the difference it's all just art's shameful negligence.
Ya so i just wrote this without reading or really thinking about it... i'll probably look at it tomorrow and forgot that i even wrote it... but if you feel interested go ahead and make fun of me.
Ya so i just wrote this without reading or really thinking about it... i'll probably look at it tomorrow and forgot that i even wrote it... but if you feel interested go ahead and make fun of me.