Realization
9/22/00
Do you remember a time when
I was not drunk, not drunk with lust or envy or love, but a time when I was
free? When my spirit could mold to the
wind.
Be free with desire. I
thought I understood what made art, but it seems I have forgotten. My words
stream together like endless random poetry on a page never ending, and not ever
really starting.
I have visions, I see
things, but I do not understand the extravagance to create. Now looking into my
soon to be wrinkled face I see the answer I wish I knew years ago: To Stop.
My heart will not listen; it
keeps on going in hopes for a better tomorrow. The beating hits against my
chest and I realize I must go on, never ending.
I will continue.