Gorr
Can I sing? No Can I dance? No Can I draw? No Can I write? Most times yes On most days it’s my superimposition of all that’s fiction and literary to you my dearly beloved Today is no most day however, On days like these, it’s anything but fiction If I had to put a label on it, it’s more of an escape An escape from life the master and all its not-so-compassionate emissaries Guns and swords can’t fight this battle so I load my pen, again They have me surrounded in more darkness than I can envision, obviously It’s a bottomless abyss of despair followed by another bottomless abyss of despair, To what end? I don’t know As I edge nearer and nearer to guaranteed eternal damnation the centerpiece of my armor slowly but surely runs out of ink It stands to reason that I don’t have to wait till it’s so clouded I can barely see the light before going to war with my demons, or against them but this is not my first rodeo – and it certainly won’t be the last. Can you kee...