In my notebok is where the words have been unread by others but worn out by me turning and rereading them each day. Unplublished pieces or pieces that i feel that need more than correcting. My notebook is were i feeling my pencil can touch the paper without a single worry. Making music out of my words instead of hate but why do it if thiers no one turning thier on to me. Its me with no others.
We’ve entered a foggy time Where only the insane are truly free Politicians thrive With agendas where their brains should be. Where “dialogue” is shouted curses Wielded like dull-edged swords And our defense against this loud banality Our faces sunken into phones, terminally bored. We no longer slouch towards Bethlehem But think its existence is just fake news. The truth is no longer a solid thing But a clay molded with our views. I’ll not try to do what Didion did, I’ve neither the competence nor the need To walk around in different shoes In glasses smoked with weed. I’ll just erode in peace here dark While the world in every direction implodes to dust. The red of it not iron-based – Eternal quiet the only end to our distrust.