9.22.17

if it were about joy

we’d all fail.

 

it is something else.

some whisper in the

night calls each of us

singly, ominous

temptation, falling

heavy on our hearts

like anchors on the skulls

of infants. think:

what have i done lately?

write down precisely what

it is

each step, each breath

each waking moment,

and allow yourself

to be crushed by

the insane directionless

instinct we depend on

for guidance.

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Written at 10:46 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.