Finger Business in Book Title.

I appreciate the comments/concern/compassion on my previous entry. I didn’t reply to them and I haven’t been here since then. I don’t have anything to say. I’m speechless. I’m sorry I’m so rude and evasive.

I’m typing on a full sized laptop keyboard (rather than a cell phone pad) for the first time in ages and it feels like I should take advantage of this opportunity to make record of every salient thought I’ve had in the interim. I won’t though, at this very moment I am struggling to find content to continue moving the cursor forward. I haven’t written shit all for poems or musings on pen and paper, either. I’m empty, consumed and there is no remainder. I’m pushing myself to get through the days without any purpose to pursue.

So here I sit, couch surf, rather; evening writing starring the third day’s high off a hefty ball of resin, mildly buzzed on that shit you can’t smell, two cups of coffee up, and many many cigarettes down- on a full keyboard. Something ought to flow from my fingertips fluidly and make linguistic magic out of thin thought.

Too bad all the fires went out
Too bad the smoke chokes
And the bugs still come around
It’s a crying shame
I’m tame

So much for passion, for
Fiery eyes, looks that could
Murder a man twice my size
So much for stray cats
I’m tame

It’s been a hell of a day
Since the sun burned
The dew away and every
Breath seems hard to swallow
On the night train
I’m tame

Empty words press heavy
On me, hold my hand to
Cross the alley. Shake that
Soft tissue, get stupid
Hate your soul mate
I’m tame

Last updated July 29, 2017