The Humble Servant
The author crumples up the words just like
God crumples up the worlds and dumps it in
the garbage. A frustration, a sharp spike
of thyroxine*, a queasy sense akin
to anorexia: the author can’t
bear to look at every written word
without shuddering. Even the scent
of inks disgusts him. Fortunately, God
is a good writer as compared with
his humble servant who all hours shall
serve him as a translator, a wordsmith,
a mouthpiece, a quill and an inkwell.
God’s nice to me. He even pays me wage
from time to time, but sometimes… See «The Rage».
* The hormone of a bad mood.
Copyright © Kurt Ravidas | Year Posted 2019
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