make it bad.

it doesn't matter if it's good.

in fact,

make it bad.

speak about the futile.

sing about the banal.

dance to the bubbles of the lawrence welk show.

bore us to tears.

it doesn't matter.

do a do over of everything you've ever seen.

say the same thing over and over and over and over until

something

unexpected

and

possibly

absurd

comes

trickling

out of your mouth.

i don't care.

i don't care that the walls have gone blank

and that all i do every day now is clean my h ouse and the more

i clean, the more chaos i unearth.

the walls are falling apart.

old dogs have scratched down the doors

and chewed on the mouldings.

mice sneak into the kitchen at night and scare the cat.

they leave their calling cards and slip away into the mousebitten underside of the sink.

decades old linoleum is peeling up from the rotting wood.

when i sit on the toilet, i lean to the left.

the bathroom is a sinking ship.

and,

i am cold most of the time.

feeling the breeze slip through the sides of the windows.

and i

am underemployed.

and trying not to stress about it.

but,

of

course,

I

am.

because the hands are reaching in front of me and i am the one running the dollars across them.

empyting my own pockets

for the sake

of

integrity.

and ok. ok. ok.

i think i am still an artist.

ok.ok.ok.

i think i am still a dancer.

and tonight at pilates, i loved it. my abs are strong. i am finding form.

and still,

my back hurts like a motherfucker.

yes, motherfucker.

flexion of the lumbar is nearly an impossible request. and my hamstrings hold me to the line.

my toes are moving further away each day.

and if i wanted this writing to be banal and futile and bad and shit,

well then,

i am doing a good job.

this is the equivalent of scribbling, doodling, throwing paint on the wall, shaking out the bones, running around a studio, singing blablabla, strumming the guitar, until something something something something

interesting happens.

not today? not today?

not today?

threes. threes. threes.

i think in threes. or i write in threes.

stuck. sticking. static. staring into stars.

wondering. wandering. when. will. what. i . am . wanting. win?

enough.

this is bad. but, there's no judgement there.

not.

no should. no shouldn't.

just what i need to do to clear the airways and let the next breath come.

until then, cough, cough, cough.

doesn't help that i'm also in the dangerously low blood sugar level zone.

swoon.