the bath room is warmed
by the constant glow
of a electric heater
some times i use your tooth paste
in the dark i hold my toothbrush
to the light of the window
a gob of silhuette / i place it on the brush
some times i can hard lee see
every thing is so seperate / we each have our
assigned shelves & drawers / my side of the bed
your side of the room / i hoard my new pillow
funny how seperation creates two people
who hard lee know who the other one is
a hard line of cliche' / that's what it is
i can't stand your anger / twisted sensibilies
cut with words / hidden knife bleeds me more than you
can ever / will ever / know
& so snow falls / small dry flakes
road way becomes virginal / bright passage
just for this moment / this one bit / hand shake of time
consider how the earth seems to take every thing back
even if it's only for this moment
nothing profound
only late nite
brain becomes an increasing
brain is a series of
quiet / / thots are circular / / with no meaning
you see / there is all ways this internal battle
i name thee psychomachea
the conflict / a conflict
virtue & vice
perhaps intuition is not enough
how does one know how to die / when does the spirit
bah /
it becomes a bore / / there is no original thot left
for this writer / / words not to be seen / meant to be read
ah the nite casts so much doubt
twice the beads appear to the side of the key board
she wonders why they keep appearing there
ususally they sit on the edge of the book shelf
these things make her wonder her own sanity
so sure i put them up once / but how did the beads get there
to begin with / / hemp string with 8 tiny beads rust & blue
2 thousand year old chinese beads made by some ones long turned
bone dust hands / / there is a piece of amber on the string as well
& 2 larger beads / one yellow / the other an oval opague / these two
came from indian burial grounds / trading beads brought by the europeans
& i wonder if they are try ing to tell me something
a majik spell / an omen / / an idea / / how do i move this energy for ward
how do move from crap / / bad energy / / i wish to be free of being
hate these blur of days / fingers slow lee for get where the keys are
all things slow / / become / / a votex of yesterdays & last weeks
& some times i think the only way i can hold on to the word is to write
every thing around me / / keeping track of / this life & nothings
i fail to see how this pushes me
along / what is the purpose of the writer
can the writer say any thing which hasn't been said before?
time for the sleepy pill to kick in
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