Call it a cube, maybe five by five by five. Call it a brick, smash a window and revive. Call it a Lego and I’ll build you up a masterpiece. Call it a chopping block, I’ll beg for mercy on my knees. Call it a building block, it makes a nice foundation, though if thoughts don’t penetrate the wood it’s nothing but a station for my train of thought to disembark and kick the passengers right out. If nothing else this stupid block is great at casting shadow doubts. I don’t care what you call it, cause no names will jolt my muse, so just call it my writer’s block and let me drop the ruse.
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