i wrote this piece after sitting in a nearly-empty room and staring at the walls for a while. i was considering my place in things--in my hometown, in the city where i live, in regards to art and any movements that may or may not be taking place--and after a few hours i just got a headache. i think i was sitting there waiting for some flash of inspiration to punch me in the throat; but when nothing appeared out of thin air to scissor kick me into writing something, i started to think about just how often i am desperate for subject-matter. the intense desire to create floods peoples' brains and they begin to think that it is something that must be done to get through the day--and it is. sitting there for that prolonged period helped me to realize that i have to be more receptive to things going on that can be used to fill my notebooks: if i fail to recognize enough on a daily basis, it leaves me setting fire to my eyes and the ceiling when i am scrambling to calm the flames.
i need more xanax.
waking up on the wrong side of your face
the plot was nice
thickened and ripe
and i sat to watch tied to a chair-
bound there by my crossed fingers
that can't raise me like they can hike-up
the price of stability in letters scribed
--i am rich delusional--
my hands tell me
my spirit never existed and
everything i've earned is mine and
my mind knows the consciousness
it's acquired to be nice
sweetened with a hurt i
don't fully grasp
but love more than the whole of my self
(though not much, it tries;
and that ought to be enough)
and i build it up
while upside-down on the scaffolding
hanging there from neatly-tied shoelaces and
unwashed hair i lose by the fist-full
i bury my face in pages that
won't be salvaged when i'm gone
and that's nice:
brightened by the limitations of time
--rules that don't bend like the dead--
huddled tight inside the
absence i've nurtured every night alone
with my motivation that melts into
the sidewalk it paces over
amidst cold that doesn't numb as it should
i feel
i've found something i wasn't looking for
