Friday, November 6, 2009

the artist formerly known as "poet"

nothing worth saying, so i'll just say this

thoughts are fragmented
i guess because there's no time
to think them
complete them
to make them sound right. doesn't feel right.

i'd rehearse this over but the big day looms closer and i've gotten no better. don't know whether i should give up now or just keep keeping on.

inspiration's running on fumes; satisfaction is something that haiku can't do.

the muse hasn't paid what she owes, but i can't let you know. so...

"the screen is still blank, but i swear something's there; i just typed it in white." i hope you believe me.

and you leave me,
to argue with myself over a good place to hang my


though there are no hooks in sight...

only fragments for miles.

should i keep walking?

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