justwrite 7 december

there’s no caffeine in this machine the revolution may be internal but it’s an infernal racked while I’m trying to sleep while I’m in kneedeep in issues trying to dig my way out trying to catch trout of the rainbow kind loosely defined as freams the seeds of such scenes as we’d like to activate to water witht eh slaughter of apathy but the antipathy suggests to me that only so many ribbons can be worn only so many heads can be shorn to make a point and how out of joint your legs would be if you tried to free every cause from its marathon the race going on must be run in teams and when it seems to you to be your turn then earn that bread that liberal bed you sleep in lets you steep in sympathy gives energy toward causes and applauds effects looks on to what’s next and takes notes leaves hope in the box and switches up the clocks to let you have the time to unwind the problems and maybe not to solve them but to swim in those shoes for miles in atticus finch style and to do what must be right in any shade of day or night while still washing the dishes while keeping up with laundry and mowing if it’s a lawn you’ve got growing on and so on until the dealing’s done and we have run out of cards to play but there’s still plenty left and I haven’t had my say