The grotty writing is rubbish of late, mostly stench, all writers speak stench and can vanish into thin air, it's like the sour odor of a bowl full of dog vomit when you feel bad. Be glad when this cough goes away, a cremated death rattle in my chest that sounds like sunburned dry leaves parading along an alley gutter, some of them are crowd-surfing and lighting small torches in sad eyes.