Spoken Word. Insert Bass Here, Amigo.
<< 7:26 p.m. - Sunday, Aug. 10, 2003 >>
There is so much nothing to say I don�t know where to begin. And all the while wondering if this is obsession. If it is, I'm running.

I�m hovering above ground at a funny angle and there isn�t a secure foothold anywhere. I just don�t know where it is I am. When y�all leave I crash and hide inside my bubble. Earth looks so inviting. But I can�t lock down, I can�t dock my flying ship and I find I am stronger with a river�s current under me. Feeling my limbs get heavy with chilly waters and those fingers that can�t focus. A thousand whispering voices in my submerged ears and friends are among me. Clothes off, bodies glow white in the darkness, and I watch our boundaries expand. What happens next?

I let go. I give a great sigh. And dive under the water to listen to rocks sift under the feet of others. Bubbles rise from my nostrils and suddenly I become the otter I adore. Illuminated night sky swirling above me. Everything is right and wrong and it�s all I want.

She holds my hand in sleep. My dear anchor. You�ve saved me so many times I don�t know what I can say to impart the love I have for you. I observe my sleep deaden the senses and it feels like our hands are not two but one. I could be anywhere. Some great vortex of paper and pens, and watch me now. I�m flying heavenward in this inky cloud. Self-made portrait in my words you all say are so poetic. While I end up feeling naked and exposed and very sorry for all my petty thoughts I cover with blue tinged drawings of eyes, moons and girls with hair free of gravity.

I�m the moon. And I think these days you�re the sea. I watch you flow so easily in envy. I�m pulling desperately on my fish line and not knowing how to capture such and extensive entity. Show me more. Because I don�t need unbiased thoughts. Reality my ant friend. Something I ignore so poignantly.

You came back. And I spit out a hundred watermelon seeds in your face to show you I cared. Hah. Sister, my sister. We laugh at nothing and discuss ourselves in endless detail. You should know I�m reading �Self-Analysis� by Karen Horney. So shall we delve farther? Our history is so long and winding I don�t want to leave it behind. So, let us let go.

I�m too broad. But hey, it�s my fucking call. Just don�t want anyone hurt. I�m just going to let all this pass through me and see where I am when it�s all over.