AND THEN
I write things because I'm scared.
Difficulties abound and all my
roadblocks have locks without
keys. Being a single nothing
leaves a lot to be desired. So
punch it up, Chauncey, let's
try to make some time. I want
to see the sky flying by me
like a milkman's matinee,
a weather-time in a long,
drawn, storm of vital
wind. I write because
I'm scared, and then.
No comments:
Post a Comment