hebdo.wanderLust-burnout
some days, some days i open up to absolute contingency & eat th bear of nothing but death to look forward to…
some days, some nights i slink back, shrink down- retreat & backslide into barely conscious kiddie fear waking
up only as i walk into th cold gust of it-th fear, th acceptance, th cramped grid of city buildings tottering
above… no quiet coffee chatter on th radio competing w/ live humans impatient for their double latte another
day, another neofolkie songstress hooking into my ghostly desires my bones nothing but brittle, hollow flutes
fail to keep my skin in place or attached- i may believe i am free again after i finish my hour on this
ill-defined job of reaching & reaching out to receding mirrors of subjectivity never quite flesh out into
being… another quirk, another recognisable illusion crumbling for th sake of authentic cutural dreams
reborn…
& you think/that love is only/for th lucky or th strong…
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