Free write 1.00pm:
Like a steam train I'm a-going. Never stop, never look back. But it's not working. Nothing is helping. I pray for the rain, I'm thirsty, I need my release, please someone, pass me a drink. Something strong, something that burns, I want to feel it. My meat is real, my soul isn't. A figure of Imagination, Imagination itself. Why do something if you can't feel it? To stop is to give in, to proceed is to conform. What's your choice?