If the words do not come to you
do not force them
I had to learn that. Many times over. So much crap tossed in the flames or the virtual trashcan.
Maybe this passes muster. perhaps it survives. We'll see come tomorrow.
When did we stop giving a shit? When did I stop paying attention?
was i too busy in search of fun? Trying to wrangle my way back to the triangle.
or just another buzz?
I get in the truck and pump out my CO2
I go hose down the world and cry at the butterfly
get the hell out of here! go away!
I am death and the reaper
Cut loose again. Not sure why. Garbled replies and it is probably me.
shrug. Keep going. This ain't it. No rest for the wicked.
and the very next day I get messages and messages replied
no please no. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
perhaps this is it. Just me on the road.
keep working and the words come when I don't expect them
Well, when is it? Can't say eh?
Carry on then. Let the wicked carry on with it.
Let the good continue to be good.
I'll just try to muddle along.
See you there. Maybe. If I make the cut.
A thousand songs and a million tears
are not enough
a picture of ten thousand words
is but a glimpse of another soul
friends of pixels and oceans away
souls out of time and in my mind
they are part of me