Just like Hemingway

I am writing stories

that I don’t know how will end,

the plots are so varied

they are hard to comprehend.

I cannot stick to the one idea

instead I have a murder

in a pizzeria followed by

a manhunt through

the jungles of Tanzania.

Every day a new story is born

which means the pages

of the old ones are rapidly torn.

No matter how hard

I try to stay focused

another one pops up, 

this time about a plague of locusts.

Too many stories are

running around my head,

too many characters

with things to be said.

Every idea, I think is

better than the last,

the only problem being

they are coming too fast.

There’s not enough time to

write what I want to say,

to construct a story

just like Hemingway.


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