Click

Insipid.
Vapid.
With blankness rabid.
And a dullness not too sapid.

Conjuring merely five rhymes and a non-sequitur,
to disprove the fundamental notion of the mobid ... (consequences of Kingshaw's death otherwise than suicide merely induces foofaraw to an inane degree exploiting the...)
blah blah blah blah blah.

Click. Click. Click.
At the keyboard I prick. (What kind of rhyme is that!?)
Oi! I am dessicated.

Staunched. Oui. Ja. Yes.
Wrecked in the fashion I'd never understand.
A frozen rictal mind.

That literary acumen is lethargic.
Stalemate.
Writer's Block.

cuRRent...jer


  ¶ 10:16 pm