After hours 15, I’m a slow envelope. Empty
and scattered. But still enjoying.. something.
There has to be a direction– left, convex. Distracted
too easily. Lethargia, too much about me.
Unrest laced my lest.. Crest behind curtains. Solve all–
Intersections, 2nite. Only for my right, to go without
sight. Studying, but for what? Review my own notes.
Panels examining my notebooks. Journals now threaten?
Contraband, the Self. Love in lineup. Cuffed. Enough, they
decided. Another Zinfandel fall lets me 4get. The traffic,
stories, glossy’d reports.. everything. Exile my rile, until
paper piles catch their director.
Another ring. Answer to strange recipes. Sing to a doorbell.
Hopefully there’s a cheatsheet. Market share scaring my heart’s set-snare.