This past week, writing has been daunting,

Leaving me scorned by the mighty pen,

Floating unanchored,

As if a branch of skills is screaming for attention.

The haunting question remains: how does one not use the blood of blogging as a distraction from the longer pieces that are boiling through my brain, begging for mercy to be written.

Without discipline for simultaneous both, I’ll end up a speechless ghoul.

                                                                                                Or purple worse:

A telltale, but fading heart,

In the sad, sad life of a writer.