I’m not a fuckin’ writer
It’s not for me to sell my stories
Who wants to read them?
I can’t get my thoughts together
I want to funnel them onto the paper
But the funnel’s clogged.
There’s nothing to write about anyway
It’s all been said
all been done
All thoughts have been thought before
They’ll be thought again
The egg wasn’t first
Neither was the chicken
It was the shell that held them both.