I shall wait.
I shall wait for the timer to go through it's course.
Wait for the little seconds to pass me by.
Produce nothing of content.
Produce nothing of consequence.
Just words strung together in a jumbled sort of way.
Words become random assortments of letters.
Meaning is lost in the rush to get them out.
It's killing me.
Realizing that six minutes is such a vast distance of time.
And yet my brain cannot seem to function adequately.
I like to sip my stories like brandy.
I like to savor my poems, swish their contents around my mouth like a rich red wine.
And yet here I am, producing something.
Nothing of consequence.
Nothing or real content.
Just words strung together in a jumbled sort of way.
Random assortment of thoughts.

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Galen almost 13 years ago

It happens to the best of us :)

LaupNhoj (joined almost 13 years ago)

A Typetrigger addict trying to find a fix more than four times a day.

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License

Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0

Prompt

Blank Prompt

Freeform prompt. Every Friday, writers face a blank page without any prompt. They write whatever they want in six minutes or less.
Prompt suggested by Galen

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