(no subject)
I used to have words. tons. they sput out of me in starts and squirts from a twisted garden hose. they sprayed onto paper, (salty, stressful legal pads in their electric urine yellow and soft, thin moleskines which quickly went from shelf to bra for years on end) they swayed like anchored boats in microsoft office and scraped around on the back of showtime schedules while I sold tickets in a booth. i had so many words in so many colors and pitches- i wore them like jewelry, i cracked them like eggs. i dropped them like seeds figuring everyone loves wildflowers.
now i'm ebbing. i'm praying for rain and sucking dew off long grass. i feel static. pens feel awkward as i try to remember which hand is the right one and even then the pen still feels too thick and heavy like a toddler with a marker- i've been drained of motor skills as well as language. i'm relearning.i am trying.
now i'm ebbing. i'm praying for rain and sucking dew off long grass. i feel static. pens feel awkward as i try to remember which hand is the right one and even then the pen still feels too thick and heavy like a toddler with a marker- i've been drained of motor skills as well as language. i'm relearning.i am trying.