words trot across the page telling me what they think
the television hums a melody systematically
interrupted by shrill fire-alarm
a wordcount a deadline and a reading list play
hide-and-seak on a screen, laughing at the person staring
‘it is not going too well’ they mutter, looking
at the word-count that had a long way to be reached
‘it will be’ I ensure them peering at the words from a
distance, knowing that nearing them drowns one
in a sleep-like daze and disables one’s attention for
an inconvenient amount of time.
Onward and carry on.
This article will be writ, rest assured!