it would seem that i got busy, android got instagram, and i forgot how to write.
all the wells dried up, and i climbed inside, to sit in the coolness and let my mind take its leave.
but that’s not true, is it?
the wordfall never stops.
a stream the same on no two steps.
a passing train, a steady downpour.
the listening is where they lose me.
i don’t want, don’t need, don’t care to find the time.
until i do, and i can, and i can’t not try,
with aching fingers, blurry soul, and stopped up spirit,
to leave this airport chair, this endless wait, this breaking day,
and go instead to the mind’s stilly bank,
where the words rush too loud not to listen.
i catch the few i can in passing.
a day’s ration, at least.
