Note To Self

Note to self:

In the novel you're on the wrong page.

You leaned over, drooled

threw the towel in on the day. 

Lunacy age

the counting of time is for the painfully sane.

So tear the page 

stalk-creep

out and away.

Reverb driveway.

Cars came and went.

My parents: petal to the metal 

racing to complete the same day 

since 1988.

Crash bang!

I've made head-way

but never learned to keep the racket at bay.

My guts imitate the rubber friction rumble on the highway.

My vision blurs faster than the tire rims

I don't believe this to be safe.

Cocaine

some head west to cut out the headache

we've been spinning wheels up and out of personal rain.

Onto the parkway

throwing up quarters and dimes

hoping to catch a quick glint of sunshine.

reflect back down to the human plane.

Shark bait

A hot a*s A halo

A willingness that only comes with the stiff belief that progress will be attained.

New day 

No personal rain

just the clouds in the sky

the hair in the drain.

coal train

jars my head every hour

writing the same tune, riding passengers are the same stray's

the weeks held promise then resorted to the same days.

Drool

Sleep

lack of control

personal history taking the shape of a black hole

degenerate hours and lips sewn tight

with nothing 

with emptiness, purpose is deranged

I see my own growth developing as an elliptical rage

Nailing the performance down on a crude stage,

just like before it will be nothing less than ok.  

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[Ed Hart]

if this be true, come be my friend...you're a smart person