my mind is running creative tonight like it hasn't in so long. maybe it just took a hang over and exhaustion and getting home with no dinner and barely lunch and overwhelm circuits overladed and orange juicer and blender and talk and pets and whoa whoa whoa for me to force a moment and feel so much and be completely unble to talk or articulate to grab Bone Machine - to walk to the computer and being the staccato ritual tappity tap tap POUND that can turn into beauty that turns blood into words that makes the sacred rise up out of the vast whiteness of the blank page and let the brain go to places that the soul needs to explore. my spirit and my horoscope came together today and smacked me in the face. the ancestors are trying to talk to me. i will not ignore anymore and if it means that i need to listen to tom waits instead of charles mingues to bring it - so be it. I need to yell and sing along and type all night and let stories and words that are verboten and sacred and lustful and passionate and angry and in love and the whole maelstrom of rollercoasters and ribbons and scars that live in these bags of flesh to leave my fingers
the keyboard is my piano and i haven't hit a concerto in way too long.
the chair is creaking on the porch, rocking back and forth and i can smell the wood of it, the life in the wet night dirt as air blows across the grass and through the dark trees that threaten murder and hold secret love. you have to scare people into good behavior. if everyone knew that the trees at night keep everyones secrets, the fabric of respectibility would fall apart from desires fulfilled. we exist on the presumption that some people must suffer and do the 'right' or 'moral' thing. and so i love you. because we don't have to be right or moral. because i walk the forest alone - and i see moonflowers bloom and small bugs crawl deliciously through moss - and i keep the secrets too, because we all have them and i am more interested in being a part of this darkness than with walking in the light.