Calmly I wait for agitation and delirium to override my ego’s inability to wait for and work for a shitty first draft. The two competitors, Insecurity and Overconfidence, face off against each other like former friends finally at the realization that only one can, in the end, hold the prize. I use “prize” loosely since only an addled brain sits flabby and tired upon the podium. Coffee with your bitter energy, like spinach to a swollen sailor, please endow my electric pen to forgo shame and embrace kinetic triumph. Phallic imagery rise up and may the shit flow so torrential and strong that the merest existence of anything else, clean be forgotten. May foul sick style overwhelm the reader into panic-fueled praise: I’m ready.
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