Not In The Past

Looking forward from 30

Five-minute free write

Waiting for the beats to start, I criminally gloss over the words and the feelings that are trying to be expressed on vinyl and I drift into trivia, into songs that don’t bear thinking about, into watery eyes that cause my own eyes to water, into the songs that I tried to write on a ukelele when I was five years old.  This is what I do, I travel through time and sense and think about random unconnected shit that doesn’t hold together.  Why do I think like this.  I seek a level of thought and expression that will knock you over and force you to ask yourself what it was, but I also want to be truthful, to be authentic, to be a creator, to have something to say.  I blather, and I should be sharpening my attack like it weere some arrow or a candy cane that you suck to a point and jam into something soft so you don’t want to actually hurt people with it.  The timer ticks infront of me and I glance over.  I am not losing myself in the moment anymore. This is why I qwritwe?  I want to just get it all over with and get a book written, get a short stor dreamed up and get a poem ready.  Who is a poet?  Who is a writer?  Are there real people doing this or is this my own prentnsion getting the best of me.  I should don large hipster glasses and look like some

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