i don’t want to work i don’t want to fix the internet i don’t want to sleep i don’t want to make cds i don’t want to watch dvds, i want to write. i want to sit here diddle these keys until it happens. i want to go noodle with the seven or so things in draft status, garbage mostly maybe not. maybe a revision of an old old poem that turned into an insane essay. the best version of which? i kicked the plug right before saving.
and i am apparently sick of typing out and. i loved my pretty & and the bastards called her evil. fuck the bastards, fuck the dumb shit, give me words, give me sparse stark things & then some whimsy please & follow that with a lush rush of verbiage & keep it coming until i am whining with the carpal tunnel, i want repetetive fucking stress injuries from the staggering volume of words.
assiduous. pure. harrowing. edifying. obvious. erstwhile. reticence. sex. reverie. unfettered. will. ever. fingertips. sex. after. consume. confound. mate. release. limitless. ephemera. and aside from that this really weird weird hope thing. it has no words, & yet i can’t shut the fuck up. unless.