How far

How far will it go to do the important work.

The time, uninterrupted. To separate the hours and then make the commitment, to show up.

Enough to alienate, enough to do alone, and enough that one may need to hire professional mourners for the obituaries. Inside a shell, with the digital pen, as if it's the only thing that matters.

Enough to escape the self-indulgent tantrums, whatever the muse will lead astray. Enough to look at the madness of the cutting that a bodybuilder does on contest day and go "yeah, I could do that."

Beyond money and time running out and funding.

That work ethic and seductive emotional labour that follows.