Smash the typewriter over your head:
the advice I'd give you in pre-computer times,
which neither of us were alive for
But now, I watch you
scowling at your computer, pounding the keys, hell-bent
on spinning the thread of an idea
into a fine web of words.
I want to laugh as you find your lip, bite it in frustration.
Burden not the world with your gilded paradoxes and epiphanies.
Be not a false writer, a sensationalist,
(but be instead one who breathes life
into the written word.)
You'd be better off binding your wrists,
ignoring the blinking cursor,
tossing the mouse out the window.