Running Out On Me

My writing days are just about done. This will be my last entry. For now, anyway. No, I haven't lost the compulsion to scribe the stuff from my soul. Or unable to recover from a devastating collision into a writer's block. I will no longer be writing because very soon I will have nothing to write with. At this point in time, I am putting thoughts to paper using a pencil that's nearly useless - worn down to the nub.

I did have another pencil, but I lost it during a brutal struggle with a deadhead last night. I was out strenuously searching for something to eat. And so was he. He was hoping to eat me. I made sure those hopes were dashed completely. We fiercely locked horns. For something severely decomposed, he put up one helluva' fight. He was fortified by a burning desperation to get a bite. But in the end, I was the one who got to see the morning light. Before he realized what hit him, I stuck a No. 2 pencil into his eye. And drove the blunt drawing tool right into it's rotten brain.

I've heard that the pen is mightier than the sword. Well, so is the pencil! It’s amazing the enormous power small things have. They posses the force to impact lives. If it wasn’t for that pencil I probably wouldn’t be able to write this. I’d be a lump shit ready to be expelled out that zombie’s ass right now.

If it wasn’t for my all pencils and paper, I would’ve wholly lost my tenuous grip on reality a long time ago. My writing, my art is what has been preserving my sanity and my sole purpose for living. Never was there a time in my life where my creative output has been more plentiful then now. Then again, I’ve never had as much time on my hands. The silver lining you’ll find in the terribly dark cloud which is the end of the world is... you will have all the time in the world.

If you manage to stay alive, of course.

Unfortunately, what keeps me going will be gone. The lead is just about dead. Maybe I am, too.