tired in that way
I beat myself up over.
comparing use of time
in the way
super deep books state
one shouldn’t.
struggling not to insert
wanting to get this over with.
I’ve already run the course of that path.
fortunate me
has folks taking from time not guaranteed
to read what I share.
everything is honest and real, true and such.
written knowing
I may still be playing illusions
as substance.
so the body aches
in ways a mind could spend weeks figuring out
inert.
the couch be calling me, yo.
voicemail not listened to.
lazy luxury of purchased meal
a sign
in my debted state.
might as well note
the sun’s change of position.
false dilemma of indecisive.
pretending I can psychic my way
towards perfect next move.
waiting in the confines
for neuron spark
that will justify
sitting an eternity
(in my melodrama)
with this
mug of coffee.
the sun begins to cast longer shadows.
I can feel the conflict in the words.
all the teachings didn’t prepare me
for the challenges
of this patience.
in another life, maybe it was during the 90s,
I asked