Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up


5 minutes left. 5 minutes.

[Whatever happens, my friend, keep writing.

-Why the hell?

Because you will spend a lifetime writing complete drivel, scratching on the great toilet wall of the internet, howling across empty fields, and then even as the clock counts down the last minutes to your execution, you will write the perfect poem, the beauty of which will move souls in centuries to come...]

5 minutes is plenty.

And what is the meaning of this? you will ask...

Poets, bloggers and other scribblers with over-developed senses of melodrama need a suitably melodramatic reply when interrogated by that sinister looming monster, futility...