tuned guitar and placed on the floor.
to live without.
waking up.
I’ve stacks of magazines on my desk awaiting notice of content, bills that I’d rather not pay as I fail to see the quality of the service and its addition to my life.
my watch has a broken off hand noticed only once at the airport and too late to change it for another. I love watches and collect them – nice ones but rarely wear them, preferring to be unencumbered from time and appointment. preferring to be unencumbered by diploma of life and riches and sun stained shoulders and neck.
but this isn’t my life anymore and I don’t work or add to a community that does not want words of perspective.
waking up.
ideation of end of life scenarios with tool of end game held firmly in hand but persistence of the flowers in the mornings and birds singing at five am –
waking up.
I remember a moment so brazen, bold – coming now with apple and white tooth smile hidden behind a beard or bad breath.
waking up.
suddenly 80 degrees Fahrenheit, suddenly humid and I sculpt memories out of tar and sand,
this is today.
this is where you can find me.
waking up.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 