cluttering the net since 2001


Sunday, May. 05, 2002
It's 5:25 a.m. and I'm still awake. I feel very alone and theres someone who loves me and would like to be holding me within air that I breath. I am inhaling his exhale. I am still alone.

And I wonder for all that I seek and all that I ache why I haven't crossed the river with all the pain that could have created ladders to higher grounds.

I ponder the possibility of waking myself at 5 a.m. to find this place that allows me to write. Allows me a clear mind. Gives me truth in consonants that line up in my mouth like teeth with a shine.

If I intercoursed caffeine through my veins for hours then sat blaring my eyes at screens full of other man's thoughts every night could I then write that novel that has been so far simply a curse that I've fought.

And why do I keep thinking about strangers loving each other? Humans I have only known in image and never in reality. Why do these things haunt me like crooked nails pounded into coffins never to be seen?

The moonlight is a shadow on my face and its the same path that my saddness will chase and its all pouring forth and I don't understand. I don't understand why I want what I can't have and I have what I can't want and I should be happy....I should be happy and sometimes I think I am. And then this comes back and I know I never was.

I remember when I was 7 my farther brought home a typewriter that survived the Johnstown flood of '77. I did this then. I sat and just wrote everything the way it came into my brain and I remember the piece of paper with all those double vowels marching into each other. The keys stuck with waterflood rust. Those are my words now...stuck. Always stuck.
5:25 a.m. ::
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