Jul 09, 2012 23:11
Don't you just hate when you can't finish a
and every thing you write sucks is lame is totally bogus [fill in descriptor here]
and the beginning of what you write doesn't have much to do with the end. Sausages with mustard.
But the drive is still there.
Gotta finish, gotta finish, gotta get done.
Still, roadwork ahead.
Delete, delete, delete.
poem