Get the fuck out of bed to write the damn writing you writer you!
This was a thought that I had as I was lying in bed and had a beginning of a poem come to mind.
This one.
Must I always know
The feeling of woe
When it sadly comes
To the ways of love
Like I am ever cursed
To only have its touch
End in pain
Like I have to love in vain
Obviously borne out of more pain is this art.
I'd prefet to create out of good, but I can't control this.
And now I'm done and gone to bed.
I don't know how much I'm going to write today since the first was a row's harvest and no harvest in the second.
And this month will hit the ten ranking, assuming all other months are better harvested because they have to be so that I can millilionize a second straight year.
Finally, the first Fishbender has been solved.
Fishebender?
That's what I'm calling them right now.
And the second one?
TFWBYBWTDIAUR
Is that enough to be a very short story?
Do you want more?
Kuuanonnii my fellow humans. No aliens.