A Crisis I am in, and there seems no open door,
Seems no door at all,
In this room of odd shape,
No windows, no doors, no entry, no exit.
Just painful depression and despair.
No exit, said Sartre, and ah yes, here I sit,
No exit, no entry, so how did I arrive?
More to the point,
How do I escape?
This isn't a Crisis of Reviewing,
or a Crisis of Critiquing,
or even a Crisis of Email;
much less is it a Crisis of Writing,
or a Crisis of Reading.
This is a Crisis of Obligation.
The slide into the Black Pit of Despair
The drawing down and out of my Soul
The Source is Obligation
Only Obligation
And the Solution: Does Even One Exist?
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