Inner bastard

My mind, that inner bastard, is never satisfied. During periods of low productivity, it rages, hypercritical. Yet when I labor solidly, and words blossom, that internal ingrate lashes me: “why do you slave away, why can’t you be contented, why not relax like everyone else?”

Add comment

About This Site

This may be a good place to introduce yourself and your site or include some credits.