For Love Or Nothing

eric 22 new jersey
i h o p e t h e s e w o r d s g o a s f a r a s
t o f i n d y o u

Novel, Be The Death Of Me

I have to keep alive, because unfortunately I feel the 

death of me coming on. Sooner than I anticipate, I

need to get my thoughts in order, my names, times 

and places on index cards. No further influences, 

all I know is me, I’m no philosopher, I’m not here to 

say something important but what needs to be

 said needs to be said, after I’m done do what you

 will, discard me as you want. I feel certain

 manifestations of a godly figure surging in my hands,

craving ink, longing to write. It spells it out for me, in

the things I watch, the music I hear. He is speaking to

me in hints, he says do it soon. “Because of it’s

importance, this manifesto will reveal me to the world,

and they will see.” This cryptic concept is longing for

an escape through my hands and paper, but this bulge of

information, ideas and creations isn’t going anywhere,

not with the current status of my wisdom,

concentration and understanding, thus; I have to keep

alive, because unfortunately I feel the death of me

coming on, and there still remains a novel to be written.

(I swear on my incoming gravy, I didn’t find writing, it found me)

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