Communicator, cooker, drinker, poet. Grew up in a mining town, wore a hard hat.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

things more substantial

i have been called vacuous, inane, strange,
simple, stupid. i'm certain that much worse
things have been said behind closed doors,
but of the words launched and targeted
in my presence, them are those that stuck.
anger has since given way to sleep, to calendars,
to seasons but i remain pre-occupied by
the distinct and famously real possiblity
that i am a hack. too many adjectectives,
too many cliches, too many predictables. but for
the fear of re-affirming the slave morality
of which i am allegedly victim, i would say:
fuck them all. and what now? read more,
run more. i am tired and far from original.
i have nowhere to run. it is not as though
my current existence hasn't afforded me
the occaisional pleasure: sunlight, poetry, beer,
sweat, clean clothes. translated: seasonal
affective disorder, ego, substance, endorphines,
and an ever-common pedestrian sense
of self-satisfaction. but all of this language
is getting old, as am i. and with another
birthday advancing on the horizon like
a midieval army, i am left wondering if
i should sober up, straighten out and stop writing.
move on to things significantly rather than
slightly more substantial. i can already hear
the ultra-supportive statements shuffling
their way into my inbox. i knew that's how
you would respond. but despite all the good
intentions which pave just about everything
these days i am alone, drunk and have yet
to settle the bill.