thispieceofwork
step up to the plate
to the mic
tap it twice
keepin' tradition
sip of water
wet the whistle
deepest breath
support the vocals
close my eyes
feel the pulse
rush of blood
hormone flood
begin again.
the railroad tracks are between my place and yours. i have to cross them twice now that the construction has gotten rid of the most direct route. the tracks are old and in disrepair. i almost always scrape the undercarriage of my car. but i still make the trek.
i bet i will until there's no more metal to scrape from beneath my car.
habits form and i justify them before i realize that's addiction. and i've spent too much time with the bad ones to start making good ones from scratch. i'm habit forming, slow learning, and open enough to make mistakes. it's what got me in trouble in the first place.
opposites attract, or so i'm told. a magnetic field pulling me to you. but north and south poles never touch, always the world between them, the world in a space, the world in a kiss. shake the tectonic plates we're holding and maybe we'll overlap for a moment, a mistake, a regret. it's unnatural to disrupt so many people in the middle just to touch.
Science is the God we can prove, the method of fact, and His word is unassailable. He's replaced the judeo-christian trinity and jesus christ and god and yahweh must be lower case. with no hypothesis you can't prove the truth.
i wonder how long it'll take to replace His High Holy Objectivity.
"duck, lower, watch it, you'll hit your--"
head again
that's what you said again
and i didn't listen
'cause i never listen
and my forehead bleeds
and my tears stream
but my smile still stays
something 'bout my way
and spiting you in the process
always makes my day.
help me out, let me think, i am helping, i am moving. i am going to a place i know not where but i'm working and thinking and all my action is current, but somehow, i still was, i still am, i still can be lost and i'm trying to be still but present tense always seems to mean motion to me, and i can't be helped if i'm not staying still, how can you be helping when i'm leaving you?
i am the reader the author's rejected. i find what i'm looking for between the lines, i can't help what i'm seeing what i'm feeling when i'm reading until i find a word to latch onto and let it all go. all of a sudden i'm at the mercy of your crafted speech and everything you're saying makes such great sense that i'm lost in your literary wonder. i can't help but keep you on that pedestal when you so fully remove me from my world.
the rose is red, amor. amour. tell it like it is, my darling. do not lie in front of the silent audience. speak the truth in action to me, i will listen to lines i know too well and hear your sadness for the first time tonight. we act too well on this raised platform, though i guess we have plenty of practice, you and i.
writing since 2010 · 11 entries · 10 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means thispieceofwork showed up.
3longest streak
10days written
0.3entries / week
the words thispieceofwork reaches for
actaudiencelighttruthlistenhelpstageopenbloodbreathactionlineswordsayinglostwonder