My day job: Creating a Reality Bites Episode
My job robs me of anything infinite.
If infinity were words, I would have written the universe
--but words are cheap when they mean nothing.
It struck me, the way purely brilliant thoughts strike you,
careless as a ton of bricks carefully measured to balance precariously--
poised flightless like aging bronze pigeons cemented on Assisi.
My life is no longer mine. If writing were my life
I've sold all the rights to the company.
What's left then?
If infinity were words, I would have written the universe
--but words are cheap when they mean nothing.
It struck me, the way purely brilliant thoughts strike you,
careless as a ton of bricks carefully measured to balance precariously--
poised flightless like aging bronze pigeons cemented on Assisi.
My life is no longer mine. If writing were my life
I've sold all the rights to the company.
What's left then?