Word Glut

I’ve written more in the past 4 days than I have in the last month. I binged, admittedly, on the juicy and irresistible words. They were so easy to consume. I gorged on them. They hit the page as quickly as my nimble digits could craft them. Witty little snippets. Fancy statements forged from simple concepts. Adjectives to make my nouns pop. Verbs that paint pictures. I just couldn’t help myself.

I drank from the bottle of the mighty English language. I drank and drank until I couldn’t imbibe another word or swig another sentence. I passed out in my clothes, pen in hand, wearing only a single sock. The evidence proves the battle against the word flask was epic. And now the words are mad at me.

I tried some hair of the dog. I jumped right back into that big old beautiful bottle of words. They didn’t taste the same. They didn’t feel the same. They certainly didn’t sound the same. Did I lose my special word goggles? Damn word binging. It kills me every time.

The words swirl around inside my head, so unruly. Fighting against my need to pull them out and place them on the page. Sentences are awkward. That one perfect word is missing in action. Ideas are even keeled over in the bathroom praying for relief. At least I don’t crave greasy food and carbs with these hangovers.


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