Sunday, July 24, 2005

It's late again

Another late night,
writing half asleep.
Half undone, bottoms off.
Drained fluid.
Quiet bar the fan hum.
My ears are closing the helmet pressure
a suppressed yawn.

A late one again,
but this is my time.
Block the neurotic thoughts,
blank and free as the sleepy lobes
wait patiently for me to hit pillow
and free up their ghost.

the interest lies in the space and
the interface , the panetary system,
the ants nest and the jam jar.
the clues are inside and the ability to
bear the mundanity and not fight against it.

I criticize all,
I cannot relate,
I feed myself,
for feet and arms and head and teeth
the eyes the uniform the standing spine,
the bounce of walking ...
sometimes it feels free,
but lately it is forced into a
fakeness I never thought I would occupy.

Well, perhaps it's good for me after all.

You dear reader won't get this,
but then it's not for you.
It's late and sleep is here.
Muscles are telling me,
they keep me company,
my aches and nerves are silently chastising.
Okay meat, lets sleep.

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