Poem - Ware Fare

Ware Fare

I would have needed to

divide into pieces to pass thru, with

risk that perhaps they would

never be reunited

on the other side;

Drifting off &

hoping I would not die,

I decided I was 

ready

to try it.

S.N.O. Flakes - Pages

Fly Conversation

This is what happens, the letters fall to mush as I try to write them. Have I been hindering myself? The impulse that drives me thru waves of bullshit on Twitter is, perhaps, -- no, FUCK perhaps!! THAT IS the unsatisfied nerve to WRITE. I can't even type words easily.

I am an enormous child, taller than my piles. Drafts of drama, days of waves. I stand over somebody, I know I must stand over somebody, because my privileges tell me so. They tell me so.

Writing about things in pieces so I can touch upon them without delving immediately into a plunge of woe. What the fuck kind of language is that?

To let myself be as loose and fluid in my shared writing as I am in my whore-ish videos. To bring language to the table-- a more direct, --- 

<<< COMMUNICATION >>>

I wrote a poem, "Marathon For A Dead Swan" on my blog, this blog here. It's a blueprint for narratives & for my music. It's the crappy candle I've crafted for illuminating one of the hidden hallways of my heart/head. And it's a pretty dark hallway, so feeling like I can give it a little bit of light is uplifting. 

Poster Coaster // Flyer Tryer

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