Free Write

So here it is.. my open words.
Here I am just came through the door.
For miles I walked, on my feet, flesh and bone, nearly all day long.

Been worrisome.
Wonder-some -
lacking honesty, perhaps. and bravery like
All I will do from here is wrong.
I walked the few miles - all the way home

Cursing from thought to thought, you know..
And checking the reflection of my demeanor in each
Window.

It’s hideous.
The way the mind works sometimes.
Devious and tricky
Blasphemous and retarded
Yet shrouded deep in memory.
Mannerisms automatic
Like they’re in my genes
Like the apt to breathe.

And a fool’s curse is habit.

I know this from my own past.

I observe this all around me.

Really,
I believe there’s little I can say
Because the habit’s got my brain.
And, reader, know it’s mostly true.
That when
you don’t want
You don’t have.
And when you won’t stop
You’re just
not
all
there.

Reader, I know
I speak in tongue
And riddles.

Smoke ribbons
around my fingers.
Silver rings. And
Leather..
And in my eyes falls thick, piecey hair
Typing beneath the cloud of
Marijuana blowing in the air.



And I have so many thoughts
Walking, always
watching spirals and
white-out eyes and mouths that talk
with out bodies
And faces,
so many faces I’ve met or simply seen
Are in my thoughts, like a wall that’s spinning
they’re calculated and precise
No matter what control I have on my mind..
Always I’m a genius
And the speaker
[ I ]
Cannot articulate the world within, moving.
Cannot remember all that was and all that could be
if there was a bit more focus
less of a poacher, god be damned,
Indeed I dislike talking.

And as my teeth get crooked
My heart feels heavier
And my fever for the void
Turns into delirium


Ah,
Yes my friend it is true
I could go on forever
Like in a brothel with
Henry Miller.
I’m in a bottle
filling up with water
About to spill over the top
as it seems near destined to fall.

I squeeze my hands together
I rub my weightless shoulders.
I let things fall as they may
now
Because I feel reckless

Oh these days
I do not seem ideal
It’s only been a month
Or maybe it’s two or three.

Alas, I must forget that there’s so much more to say
Because, sweet person, I just do not feel the same
As I would if I
Were
Prompted
To be sane.

Author's Note

only edit is me ---> [I]

Reviews

[Non Serviam]

Cursing from thought to thought, you know..
And checking the reflection of my demeanor in each
Window.

I believe I connected with this section the most. Often I see myself when I'm in a "mood" and I wonder what it is that other people are seeing; whether they have the ability to look past the rage and the tears...and simply see me.


And I liked the way you ended this piece. To be sane; now that makes you wonder.