The Spirit of November
The Spirit of November is relentless.
He bellows for his dinner.
“Words!” he cries.
“More words!
“Give me 1,667 words for dinner!
“Give me 1,667 words tomorrow, too!
“Give me nothing less!
“Or else you suffer!”
Countless numbers write, write, write on,
To indulge his hunger.
Never enough.
It’s never enough.
I write. I write. I write on.
It’s never good enough.
He returns it with disgust:
“Better words!” he insists.
“Give me better words!
“Or else you suffer!”
I tell him those are the best I possess.
But he’s furious none the less,
Sending me to the dungeons
Of lousy-writer misery.
How else would the spirit of November look, right?
(First posted: 11/30/15. Serendipitous timing for both of this forbidden letter’s posts to come in November.)
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