An adventure in text

Like a sheeny shiny fish looping round the bowl

Left left bink

Right right bink

Oh how I wish I could be a fly

And flit about upon the sky

Who cares about all this and that

Or bothers themselves about a spat

Not I, not I

A little fly

Oh how I wish I were an otter

Float and roll and around I'd totter

The currents would drift me away from home

Happy I would be to roam

Not any bother

The greatest fear, in the forefront, the back, everywhere in my mind – this is all I have to give. Reproduce, regurgitate, nothing new or novel.

It seemed back then, back when, it all flowed and streamed out of my pen, through my mind, my fingers, the ink and the page.

At what stage did it dry up, curl up, give up

My mind, blank

reduced to the practical

the pragmatic

Completing tasks tick

tick

tick

Looking inwards, casting and casting, retrieving all but nothing