Passion, no matching box

For years I have been plagued by the amateurish feeling of needing to write, nothing to write about. For even more years I have began sentences with the following combination: 'for years'.

My life seems like a deaf/mute version of Verdi - Requiem, Dies Irae, with no audience or catharsis.


How do you call a carpenter thats allergic to wood?


Tell me.