The key is in your pocket. 

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What’s the life

of a writer like?

France and wine,

fame, friends,

drunken days into drunken nights

crazy ideas and

rose colored glasses.

Or is it loneliness

sadness

inability to fall asleep

inability to wake up

while your dreams drip

from the faucet

in a locked bathroom

and you lay on floors

in the dark.

But the problem is not that you’ve lost the key.

The problem is that you just can’t get up.

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