brain chewing

My brain is chewing
On the marrow of a story,
The book is written only
In first draft, the characters
Plotting to grow into their
Skins, the seven into five,
Which one will win? This is
The beginning, the middle
And the end, another novel
Nearly written, spinning down
And in again, what more is there
To do but to trust my Self, nerve
Wracking as this is, it is the most
Fun I have had on my own, truly
The focus of life on creation
Is the only life force spent well.

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