Just a quick scribble here to say “Hi!” and remind y’all that the Review and Renew Writing Challenge is still ongoing over at Jill Jepson’s site. Daily exercises delivered to your inbox to energize your new year of writing.
I puked up a “poem” for the writing prompt and thought I’d share it with you.
Gears
My year of writing was like rusted gears. Still moving, still grinding away, still propelling this busted machine forward, but screaming and flaking and smoking all the way. Exhausted. In need of repair. In need of replacement parts. In need of a break. In need of a new roadmap to tell me where the fuck I’m going. Fuel. Sweet holy fuck I need fuel and better shit than what I’m burning. I got a warning signal flashing and pinging away but I can’t figure out what’s broken. Keep stalling and skidding out of control and I pray to the traffic lights and guard rails that I don’t crash cause I’m fairly sure these airbags don’t work.
I didn’t lose my train of thought. I know exactly where the fuck it is. It jumped track and rolled over into my field of dreams, crushing innocent bystanders. It’s up to the maintenance crew now to put it back together and give ‘er a push so I can get going again. I can’t do this by myself; I’m a terrible mechanic.
Some days, I need a jump-start and some days I need a goddam tow. But I can’t stop ’cause parking is too expensive here. I need a real repair, not a fucking MacGyver. This wreck isn’t gonna be fixed by hanging a new air-freshener on the dash.
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