Flowing grey, colors gloom,
Days to nights the hours zoom.
Sitting working writing lots.
Smelling words, sniffing jots.
Tired? Never. Restless? Yes sir.
Can’t put down the dream today I don’t think this dream will go away.
Got no reason for my belief except to say I’ve grown the seed.
What can be said about passion like this – a longing a turning an obsessive fit?
Oh not too much, except what they say – a passionate man can be so unsafe.
That living obsession and fuming too much and striving too hard and churning and such,
Can lead to madness, all scrambled thoughts. Can leave you with nothing but the knowledge you’ve lost.
But oh what to do! I cry but a tear! For it’s not my fault I’m a writer, those words brought me here!
– Thomas M. Watt