#writelife

and since it feels like that mainly happens when things feel bad**

I guess I'd like to say, I typed some of my manuscript in today and got to the end of Vol. 1, and I'm super excited about Vol. 2 even though writing takes way longer than I remember it now I have a real*** job

It feels like everything is so slow and part of that is my own weaknesses, but it was good to cross that milestone.

*probably the cider

**and trust me, there are things that feel bad, but they are not mine to own

If I can't say it ever, I'll say it now in this verse

Please meet me in every other universe

Even if fate obstructs the path in its crowning

Take my hand, stop me from drowning

You said it feels like family when you spend long enough time

I knew it in my heart your song and mine rhyme

I send out my prayers into the cosmic thread

That unites us in a timeless pool of rearranging emotions unsaid

Our silences have the loudest nostalgia

We sit among words that spell so much that ease my dysphoria

If I can't say it ever, I'll say it now in this verse

Chibs: "Pet? You promised to finish my kinky ABCs, so we could spend the weekend at the cabin with Tig."

Loxi: "I know, but" *vaguely points at something shiny* "This vintage car is really pretty..."

"And it's only important if we're fucking in the backseat. *Takes off glasses* Are we?"

Loxi: "Well... we could, let me just research..."

Tig *struts in* "Hey, I just got a text from Hap. He's waiting at the cabin"

Chibs: *sounding impatient* "The wee minx can't make it to the SAMCRO gang-bang today, Tiggy. She's too busy"

Tig: "Doing what?"

Chibs: "Drooling over C1 Corvette"

Loxi: "Aaand trying to translate obscure Turkish love poems"

Shop: https://celestetsang.bigcartel.com/

Please write me a poem about writing,

of the tango of paper and pen,

a single tip scrolling across its expanse,

rolling over and over again.

There’s something divine in the turning

and the typing of finger to key,

no matter what age of invention we’re in,

writers set our imaginings free.

So all of you bookworms and scribblers,

the word is the food of the mind;

either enter a world that another has built