artist without a cause

Writing for the sake of writing
Writing to alleviate tension
Writing because I smoked a cigarette last night
Writing because the earth has filled my lungs.

Writing without vision
Writing without reason
To understand what I'm saying
For past time’s sake
Writing in and out of consistency

Right

I said it to her perfectly:
The words come out of my hands much better than they come out of my mouth
Or my ears, for that matter.

Writing to a photograph who
looks better than
another in
real life.
Writing my
life over to a story I’d prefer.
Writing my invention,
Writing to fairy god-mother. Imagine the chaos if all our wishes came true.

Writing because in the end it’s the
only familiar thing
I know how to do this
I am amateur talent
distract from the adrenaline


Words cloud my head completely
How insane, that I might generate more to declutter the load


I think we’re both dancers
(he has feet too) -
This is me looking in every place -
I never shut my eyes
and just as well.
Maybe the problem is that he did.
Or maybe I never quite looked properly.
Maybe I didn't pack my bags write
Or should have packed after I saw his shoulder blades
He makes me sound different to what I would like
For better or for worse
I really don’t know.

Perhaps in closing his eyes
He found the peace
to slow his pulse...
I have tried but I’m not so strong.
I’m not so strong that I could discard two red hundred dollar notes.


I could talk shit all night
I could catch a million other flights
But as I said, I’m not that talented.
Not that talented at all.