Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 860. Or, Like I Do. Here. Three days, everything is I want to swallow your desire. Waking up, that phrase sits waiting on my tongue. In the shower, I work words around it, just to see if I can push it forward and out of my mouth. Drinking coffee in the sun (I'll not get to enjoy much longer), I'm building paragraphs around it, lyrics crowd around to see what's been eating me for Three Days. It's keeping I'll follow you down and It won't be long company. Inspiration is floating like a ghost covered with a sheet. It's a fetus, waiting for warmer weather, quiet, and personal space so I can actually give birth. [It's been a while.] I thought I'd wink at you and say, "I'll wait." But fuck your patience. I've lost all of my urgency, now content to wait for the next punch from beyond to knock the breath out of my lungs. Is it possible that my apathy is truly the Zen that I reach on every other Tuesday? I still don't know, but these days, I don't care either. Don't mistake my lack of energy for depression. I just decided I don't need to be a miserable person simply because my life hasn't worked out. Risky, this waking up full of love, when that isn't quite the words we're looking for. Adoration? Hardly. Some rose colored scarf, clouding my vision, and sticking my eyes? Well, it was a nice analogy. I can't be your cheerleader, but I hope for us every day. 10:14 a.m. - 2004-03-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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