where to start? with
resolutions? or a breakdown. my
spokesperson sat me down today and
said maybe i should light a candle. i
could use an ignition, but not sure about
the buildup of living these days.
there’s some ballot going ‘round thru my vessels,
the cells of my skin. some want a war, some want
destruction, and, surprisingly,
those are 2 very different things sometimes. i
just want to stop stopping, or
really, have something worth my spokesperson saying.
where is the direction today. what is the progression and
what am i doing right now, with
an upending. from there
we backtrack thru the story. turnstiles of
our ruined self-loathing, the ruined veins of our
your heart is on fire. again. i’m toasting marshmallow dreams by it;
to put them on a cake and call it:
empty mindful artfulness gone wild.
forget all this trying.
let’s just jump in a river and become fish.
and at some point i need to admit: i
like the mess as much as i love
life. i like my heart all splattered on the ground and
walked on. i like every inch of my scars, i bathe in being
broke all the time.
my skin tries to get me to adapt, my feet try and point in
other directions, but
for fuck’s sake, life is a grandalicious mess, and if yours isn’t, then,
you’ve missed something.
or not. i really can only speak for my failing soul, my
troubled limbs, my transfused blood. i’m in pieces and
no matter how much i have been glued back, there
is no resolve with the fading and no,
i will probably never straighten it all out. no, hold the thread and
get out the knives. it’s time to live again.