Sinking Through Garbage…

I’m drowning in my own words, a sea of black inky nonsense keeping me under. There is no use following the current, there is no current. And the only island to wash ashore to is The Island Of Clutter, a place as suffocating as the deep black sea of words. I don’t want to go back to that place, it would be too much like clockwork. 

Thankfully I can hold my breath for approximately eighteen months, three weeks, twenty-two hours, thirty-five minutes and twenty-nine seconds in these murky depths. And as I sink, I see a shimmering gap below. It might be nothing, or a portal to another world.  Whatever the case, I dive inside, straight on through to the other side… 

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