Alas, I feel beset,
both with the swelling urge to
write, and the swelling
urge to never write again.

The latter, it does not take
hold so well. The former, it
often stays not long enough
for anything to come of it.

So, as all such evenings end,
we (I, specifically) are left
with another ill-crafted, rambling piece
that was meant, at first, to
prove that things can still happen,
and yet it only serves to highlight
all the bits that havn’t happened yet.