when you know the words are a drug

This a post inspired by MonkeyMoonMachine’s Freshly Pressed post about the writing process. This is a microscopical insight into part of my writing process. 🙂

When music and silence morph into a grey shadow, mingling into nonsensical, nonsensical rhymes.

When not quite all the light has poured into the sunset, the night nor dusk, just a silhouette of time.

When the mattress has lulled you into a semi-fatigued state, your eyes see only a dazed photocopy of the world and a quarter of the words.

Take these and stir with a sieve, filtering the glitter.

When reality and dreams are equal at election: in the light of the darkness there are strange things, new things, the wonderful.

Writers drag these from the imagination moors, paid in black eyes. It is backbreaking labour but the incoherent becomes the coherent under the candle at dawn. You have something like an eclectic cocktail, like a dormouse at tea.

Wear a raincoat to go for a stroll in the morn. It is strange and wonderful.

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