Walking the tight rope 1
It’s Monday and as I have a lot of work to do on myself in life and much more, I can see a dimension where
It’s Monday and as I have a lot of work to do on myself in life and much more, I can see a dimension where
Oh San Fran, a friend of mine visited you the other day and reminded me of our time well spent together Christmas Day. I remember
Against the tide of strong river currents, I fight with the will of God. Why? Aimless passion, love, strong heartedness; never backing down. I fight
Because it seems as if I search for it in everything I create and come in contact with. I know now it’s not for poetry
The more days that pass it’s me that ages. I stuff myself in holes of immaturity and self doubt, buying my way into the fancies
this is a stream if consciousness one I was never good at streams of consciousness but conscious in the unconscious how could I have known?
AND IT’S ALL ON PURPOSE! Action. Real action; is all I crave. Why must I be like this? A poet? at best. An ARTIST of
Because it feels like I can’t breathe. Distract me from my mistakes because it’s getting hard to see; contemplating therapy. God has a chokehold on
as I sit in the middle of this space listening to songs in languages that aren’t my first. A show I watched yesterday told me
8AM with Mac in my ears telling me things I already know. How will I ever get by without such experiences. It’s early and there’s