Imaginary Friends; a Haiku

I’m getting too old.

For imaginary friends.

No! Not when I write.


Blindness. And silence. But for your own beating heart.

The only sound you’ll ever hear, tearing your sanity apart.


Writing Goals

I tried a chapter,

And I quickly gave up.

So I went for a page

… still couldn’t back it up.


Perhaps a paragraph

Is the way to go?

I quickly discover

That the answer is no.


But a single sentence.

Success! (if but small).

And a little is far more

Than nothing at all.