typewriter.13

Day old adherents

keep pressing and pressing
free press makes a difference
but truth falls again
to the floor

nothing sticks
in a day. a month
not even a year

your expressions are painted
to resemble the real
the artwork’s on sale again
imitating a steal

unless you step out of your comfort
and into your twilight zone you
cannot be credible and
that’s how i feel

find out what you care most about
what you believe in
and share

at the end of every night
lie down with your work
to wake up with it

the cards are the same
they get dealt and
we deal

we suffer. we feel
that’s how real gets to real

make friends with your fear
have tea with anxiety
have courage to say what you believe

let your island of opinions
into the weave

November 7th

Journal # 11.07.15

I am living between holidays, between pages, between headaches from a screen, between meals, between distances. And probably between relationships, if I ever date again. I’m not sure why I would, though, I guess I used to enjoy suffering with short bursts of pure love. I miss my landlady from Oakland, she lives in Napa Valley now. She always did enjoy wine. I used to be able to wake up and splash cold water on my face and feel okay. That was so long ago I’m surprised I still recall it. Now I’m much happier, but I rarely feel okay, does it make sense?