Day Eight: Rejection

It's day eight, actually almost the end of it and I do know the bitter taste of rejection. I just couldn't think of a way to write about it without sounding/reading like a an 8th-grade emo kid. 

So here goes. (What I think is the second worst in the rejection list: writers block)

10:45 PM

Sour, curdled globs

  rest and swim on the back of my throat-

     I cannot force a single thread to shape a letter

surely. by all means today

    we will be one.

Blood, swirling clots

  copper and vile on the tip of my tongue-

     I cannot use a single drop as ink

maybe. perhaps in an hour.

    let me think.

Tears, dripping stinging

   salted and vinegary on the rim of my eyes-

     I cannot see a single word on this line

no. not this time. 

   too tired.