I limp, slower than my liking… A broken bone healed wrong, in the shape of those who came before. No pain. Joints out of place... Poems that don’t rhyme for shit... fans on high and walls to hit. Prose covered in Prozac (I wish)... to calm myself and make sense of it.
Night goes... Credits roll and words don’t show, late for their own party... again. I kill the lights, climbing stairs in the dark... blank pages behind me. Day comes too soon... and another chance to make creative... with an excuse.
A ramble, a rant... random thoughts, out of order, plain... saying nothing much to no one in particular. Time and creativity measured in a ten-day beard. Numb, without pain. Nothing to give... every day the same as the last... and the next.
Nothing to give... taking made legitimate. Self isn’t selfish when it’s only you. Legs up, give it up... all for the process, all for me... irresponsibility. Leave it all behind, because there’s nothing left to take.
Where does it go? And where does it all come from?
Mine is gone.
You sure that's a broken bone?
ReplyDeleteOr just how you feel lately? :)
Well written Bill. Hope all will heal. <3
ReplyDeleteHi Bill,
ReplyDeleteHang in there. Time may not heal all wounds but as time passes small changes take place, things fall into place, and soon one is off and running again.
Even when you ramble you do it beautifully, Bill. Always hold onto that. Hope you feel better soon.
ReplyDeleteEven your ramblings are beautiful, Bill. And, dear God, I hope that x-ray isn't really yours. Ouch! Hope you feel better soon.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed reading your ramble....its beautifully written, and to me its always the random thoughts that are most creative. Cheers!
ReplyDeleteI see your jean buddy made a comment lol, As usual bravo, but don't let it go to your head billy boy
ReplyDeletevery good poem all that is expected to address all healing.
ReplyDeleteSuper Kate says she is feeling quite down after observing that x-ray. She'll be taking a spin over RB tonight to look in on you. KTG
ReplyDelete