you waste your words as breath as though
you’ve an infinite supply waiting on your
every subconscious as though you could write
in your sleep (unless you have a cold of course
in which case you’d need vicks vapo rub or
something to aid the writing so you don’t get
clogged up) unintentionally coughing up
masterpieces but you’re full of it i tell you
you’re absolutely full of it