I have to seem the big boy and remain the recluse.
Be the dreamer and be the man and be the center and be the strength and be.
The fervor, the hero and the crashing despot:
Of hidden daemons,
The teller of something right and wrong and serious and fertile,
Un-hurt but scathed.
Maintain that rough texture and somewhat exposed underbelly.
I have to remain, the fixture and garner sympathy and respect and burdens.
Escape bourbon and fledgling poetry and prophetic nature.
I have to stop answering fucking questions and knowing answers and picking battles.
Fight battles.
Writing simply and without two spaces between new sentences and stop typing AND.
Rehearse the smart guy sympathy
Playing the taught guy game.
I have to work with Ryan and find a way to further the sound of these gracious keys.
I have to learn to type.
I have to learn to type.
I have to find another outlet, maybe the photos.
Maybe more writing.
Fewer 40 oz’s from Park and his kitten.
Is it his kitten?
And then, when? Where? How? The break in this shell?
So, grate the rhythm!
Less red lines and fuck the green.
Damn the consequence and the posture and the smoking and the trash organization. Put the cigarette butts where they fall.
Dream less of the right place to work and more the right thing to do.
“Go on take the money and run.”
Thanks a whole bunch for putting that in my head Steve.
And speaking of things in the head:
I wonder if wounded, my “addiction makes me, pretty ugly.”
I wonder what people think?
When they pass whether they think they are witnessing anything?
Good-great-bad-futile-fringed-frank?
THEY are trouble.
What is a Catholic Kolping house? Is Kolping a verb?
Can you wear white after Memorial Day or is it Labor?
If you are worried about when to wear white are you capable of labor?
Did I reminisce the other day about life post Ecstasy? And Exes?
Did I wander into a memory not worth sharing or shinning?
I have never seen “The Shinning.”
Does that matter?
Will this be worth re-reading and putting into some form or is this a diary?
IS this stream-
Of-conscience worth exhibiting even to myself? To others?
Am I interesting enough to draw interest? Is alliteration my only form?
Format?
Or is the escape from both more interesting than the senses?
There are five I am aware of.
And five tastes. And Umami: Savouriness.
Does the rant become fact or fiction?
Does it blur lines?
If I answer the sentence with a period does it mean more.
Is she on her period?
Are we more or less adult to discuss period-sex?
Is this fancy or phenomena? Between?
The wind has picked up and the weather has shifted and I will punch the keys to debt.
To flying finger phantoms and furious anger.
I will type harder from now on.
©DANIEL MORTON 2011
©DANIEL MORTON 2011
