I am not
writing.I am
not writing. I
am not writing.
Truths in thirds.
Too much consume.
People are limited.
Denial is unopposable.
Drugs give context.
I have taken
so many of
the same mind
trips over and
over. Time and
potential are running
out. All the
little things I
don’t do, the
cares I don’t
take, the gives
I don’t fore,
erode the gentle
mystery, all its
delicate connections.
I say I am a writer but I do so little about it. And I get lost and confused so easily, even just right here, in the blank spaces of the page bursting meanly through between the words. There should be no white. There should be no space. There should be no liminal digital blur slurring my characters away from my sight. I can’t really see, I can’t really read. Not cause I’m high but because I am aging. It’s not that there’s something in my way, there’s not enough (vital, humorous) (eyeball) me to do all the fiddly bridging.
IFYOU SEE SOMETHING SAY EVERYTHING. That’s what the post 911 pro propaganda posters told Liz Lemon. What sooth for Cassandra DelTaco? Erstwhile heir to Alexandria’s AV room.
My friends at the dog park told me again today how young I look. My bones are so soft I am legally disabled. I type this while taking my Solgar Supplement Stack. Calcium Magnesium Zinc Lysine Vitamin E. Joints, bones, and skin. Let us strengthen my connections such that the weight of the soul I bowl wears me out less.
My self is the reflection of my psyche. My body is the ship I wreck, or sail, or harbor in that pursuit.
Allwelland
poeticbut Still
can’t read the
goddamned typeface. Off
to send mail
and buy groceries.
Truths in thirds.
Form follows function.
I am writing.
This is writing.
This is written.
Time is in motion.
And we have today's potential. We have bits of learning, and we move on.
It has something to do with free will.