Sigh. An addict I am.
Lost without my sword of ink.
How had I arrived at this point,
On my bed beside me like and egg,
And I the cobra waiting to strike between leaves at any angle.
My note book! Oh the sight, is captivating both day and night.
And me, well, am the writing junky
Sometimes on an empty belly but when I write
This is what satisfies me. The addiction of the writing junky…