Every masterpiece needs a workshop

Writing is dying and desks are the executioner.

How can you expect me to be be inspired

Create worlds

Curate scenes

Draw flesh and blood from words on a page

When I'm staring at a screen.

Sit up straight. Watch your elbows on the corners. Make sure dark mode is turned on. Stay at your desk in your office on the top floor: and use these 26 letters on this well-worn keyboard to make something that moves people, something that inspires, forms a new organ deep in the pit of their stomach that pulses and grows with the urge to create, too.

No.

Take me outside.

Let me learn about hard work from the bees and their Queens

and experience onism first hand at a too-full cafe.

Let me find a hanker sore in some far-off bar

and kairosclerosis as the sand holds m body and the waves take my breath.

And please, do not make me sit at a desk.