I can’t think straight. I’m so distracted by thoughts of things I’d rather not be doing alone. As if I’m hard up, or something. Perhaps that’s my problem. Insatiable.

I
should
sleep
and stop
allowing my imagination
to
Over
Stimulate.

Except
I made no mistake. So why do I keep having
to Try?

What is stopping me from just
BEing?

the answer is in the blankness of the next page.

back
bone

unlike this

brokedown Network
net worthy catch phrase periodicals
fast times buy more

space.

Radial distance
inconsistent.

Facilitate

Feign indifference.
(trending)

I should have blushed or felt a surge of gratitude but truth be told there wasn’t an ounce.
Instead I found a dusty reflection, wrought with complaint, polluted with
Contentment.

Who knew that happiness would create an adverse affect?

Satisfaction silenced inspiration.

Delta/Jazz/
And all the standards
Sound better than mediocre attempts at Upper East Side
Living.

These scales,
Drenched in aerated wine, milk and handcrafted Bullshit,
Sit upon pillars carved with an ivory hand.

I’d rather listen to sullen shades of midnight Blue
Than the same sorry Southern California proximities of
Luxury
(oceanic,
non specific pieces of “prolific Art”). F.you.

Give me
Simple lines of
Authenticity.

Exchange
Jaded hemlines and
Jeweled upbringings;

I’m no privileged
Living being

Just another person who believes that
Seeing
Is enough to tell the tale,
As along as you can see
The Details
Within every shade of

Daily
Sky
Blue.

We all sit underneath it.

fuels the flames 

     higher

she holds hr head,

[ crooked neck

buckled spine ]

hopes climb vines

to float with the stars

Too far Too often.

[ she ]            Remembers syllables once flow’d from

somewhere inner…

less inner thigh

more like…Deeper

meaning.

Scratchy throat can’t confess,

Without coughing conundrums. It’s easy

To blame sand storms,

But lesson unlearned’s

The one

That caught

a tongue.

Fingers rest from weaving

softly waving

Rhythmic blankets of

Words.

[ She ] Had to catch her breath for a minute.

            ‘twas stolen by a dashing prince,

            piercing eyes and a steady hand.

            She had to catch her breath because he stole it;

            He gave her his heart in its stead.

            The End..

She returned the stare with

Heavy lids,

Long was the day.

With twisted cheeks she smiles on cue

To thank you

And bid you Good Day.

Be glad she didn’t pour your

Sour attitude

Into your

Personalized Cup

Of

Coffee.

Comes slow

Or not at all

And those are long

Thirsty

Days.

Looking at the mirage

Of hope.

So

goes

hours

Of dragging

Through sand,

Time lapses

Slower

Than

Starts                        that

Don’t go.

Youthful innocence’s blessed to succumb to wizened depths – 

            Days spent watching

            Change.

We play in the shadows

Until we outgrow them.

Caught growing in menacing strings

Feeling for wall

Stretched tall, up against shadows

Toeing sunlight

Fighting against the inevitable tomorrow.

Don’t give up hope.

It’s all part of the game.