The Writing Process

Locked up like tetanus, convinced I’m empty.

Time to rethink the band name, fire a manager, make it all right. Turn the ship a few degrees toward raucous waters in case we get bored.

The regular stuff. Gotta shake the muse child to something more lucid. Maybe it needs an anti-everything pill to rouse it.

A chopperless pilot feels more at home on the ground. He can’t fly without one. I bet he hates it. With the luxury of a key to start it, he shouldn’t complain.

There’s a snotty child runni...