when i was alone, i felt you more

[thevisiblecat]

i was trying to sleep
because i have to get up
ever so early
and do this thing
or that
then
go to work
and i've been getting headaches
again

and going to sleep at 3
at waking at 7

my mother has terrible migraines
that she's had ever since
i've known her

i found her tranquilizers
again and again
over the years

maybe i'm inheriting these
early
on

lately i've felt bad
about writing here
and yesterday decided
that i was done with this
again

i guess not

i mean
i read yours
and maybe i'm being too serious
or something

i donno

i too seek the vague
i mean

i'm realizing my place
somehow

when i was talking to allen ginsberg
about haggard and halloo in lawrence, ks
someone approached him
interrupted the few sentences we exchanged
and said, "would you like to read my book?"
or something like that
and allen took it
and returned it to the man
and said, "i don't read prose"

for the last 6 months
maybe longer
i've yet to find a book
that will hold my interest
for more than an hour

i've started:

the virgin suicides
middlesex
a million little pieces
the book of lost things
doghouse roses
the lost beatles interviews
valga krusa
girlfriend in a coma
gig
the diary of franz kafka
and others

but instead have read
more poetry than i care to admit

i read several poems a day
every day
and this makes me not want to write
them anymore

instead
i think another one of my fish is dying
one died
last nite
and my left ear
has some weird infection
and i'm gonna take a long drive
this weekend

but until then
i'll just sit here
in my chair
in front of the computer
letting my eyes
turn
ever more red
ever more
red

until i can trick my body
into sleeping
by drink or dose
and become the leader
of my dreams
and deliver myself
to another
day

another day
of your journal entries

i guess