Sunday, May 17, 2015


I feel like I haven't created anything in a very long time 
I've been very concerned with money lately
Like a factory worker
I'm not just a worker bee
I'll write your copy and story lines and headlines for no byline
But money 
Is never what I wanted 
Nor has ever been my motivation 
I've always found my way astonishingly 
Being myself
Star like air like carefree 
Caring that's when things become real
And the problem with real is that my real is not yours
Nor yours mine 
We cannot just be passive observers in a world that has no direction
A moment towards more 
And excess 
Until we are too full fat and happy 
That we are unable to move 
To speak
To think
If this is comfort I say I don't want it
Burn the pillows of defeat
Do not rest your head
But let it fall like a heavy tree
From exhaustion
Because the cut is too deep
Let yourself be uncomfortable
Trimmed down to the bone 
Purge the fullness and tiredness 
I fell asleep in a loud theatre and knew then that
Something must be wrong 
What happened to that slim, shrewd girl
Who would do and try and be anything once 
Had she been all she would be
What was left for her 
When she was on the brink of dying she felt most alive
And now living a life 
She felt the most near death 

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