Thursday, November 15, 2012

Discomfort Food

I can't write, but
I can't not write
If only I can stay
Right here
Nerves thrumming
Fingers drumming
Make-believe that I'm alive and
Watch the hours go slipping way, way away

Inaction's where the real action is.

Fear's my guide, yet
Fear won't guide me
All it does is just
Cripple, and compress
Crawling, distress
Sitting, standing, waiting for the headsman
I gave him the hood, the axe, the job

There's nothing in this.

To hell with the calories.  I have to burn this off before it sticks.


Special thanks to Tones on Tail, whose number 'Instrumental' got me through this one.

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