Been sleeping on the floor.
Like for the past two weeks, I think.
Just don't want to be in the bed any more.
Frappucinos, and dark rooms, and CRT screens make me tired.
Overcast Tuesdays
and faraway horrors
and echoing little speakers.
and thoughts of others getting old
and entropy is friend or foe?
And dark and serious eyes
and frantic amusement
like sharks feeding:
scribbled lines on two way commercially sponsored drawing programs
and I'm too drunk I have to lie down
and somewhere our government is bombing again
so we can be free....
And the floor has a seizure again
and a man with his shirt off
in front of the Starbucks drinking a frappucino
an asian man tries to help a blind man cross the street
and the blind man jerks his arm away
and the reflection of myself
in the dark restaurant window
and checking myself
checking myself
checking myself
feeling like I'm not dressed properly
wondering what is properly?
And taking things into our bodies we know not what
a sign on my building that says danger--this place causes cancer--
and paying bills and phone calls to unseen strangers
with soft, understanding voices
and the feel of the soft rubber of sandals on my feet
and the feel of sugar in my veins
and is it time to take my medication yet?
And taking a bath finally and washing my hair
for the first time in two weeks because I can
and wondering what to do next what to do next wondering what to do next
and getting tired
and having to sit down
and wondering what to do next
and sitting down....
And another phone call from mom
and another phone call from David
and another phone call from Eden
and feeling like a book in a shelf
all leaning to the left and to the right
the left and to the right
waves on the ocean like stalks of wheat in the field...
wondering for a moment what the wind is
that moves us all....