i know i should be stuck among the articles that now define me as an outsource orc...but i long to be free of word counts and restrictions and emails and deadlines and the occasional caucasian cuss-worthy threats...
i long for that byline once more...the glory of names on ink...the unmatched freedom of an empty page waiting for pen and hand to make love again...
the smell of printed pages that mock the world with untarnished truth and my own brand of sarcasm shining through...
i long to write...of life, of love and of truth...
to see each day with passion, to see when others simply fail to even "look".
i long to live forever in books bejeweled with age,
to survive the wrath of the seasons with each turn of the page,
i long to be alive with thoughts that strive,
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