house you'd be home

would like to take a ride on a topless bus shouting out 'would you ever be my fucking boyfriend' and selling tickets to my own show.

(greed)(fear)(racism)(inaction) (wicked mind)
are
weapons of

Mass Destruction/

i have no structural thoughts. they seep out of me, through my skin and my hair and my lips. i do not conjugate my thoughts. i simply write what comes to me. that's why things don't make sense here most of the time.

today i'm struggling to bring myself.
to write anything new. to work. to make things work.
to write anything at all.

not sure what i should do right now.
pores are blocked.
throat closed up by the plunge.
writhing in discontent.
smothered by the desire to be well-read.