Revolving Doors

I had a stroke of genius an hour and a half before now. I felt the poetry sitting on the couch, cat fishing. The fish were so big, they took the line away from me.
Much like a metaphor for this string of words I imagined. My 'learning disability,' as the young folks say, is that way. My mind goes too quick. I work hard, when the momentary genius fails to be written down. My mind goes to fast like a dry-erase board or etch-a-sketch shaken... like sands through the hourglass...
He said noone knew the internet would get this big. He said it wasn't made for 'applications'. Apps used to mean appetizers in the restaurant biz. That's how you abbreviated it on those little sketchy note pads.
I am reading a book about Visceral Realist poets. It is basically pornography so far. It's fine by me, because life is like that. Really, it is. And if yours is not, I do not apologize for saying so. That's why there's a period at the end of that sentence.
I worked hard this week, neglectful of my genius, and I built up some slack today. Rather, I cashed in on it. And more is due tomorrow the moment I wake up. I cash in on the work by opening my eyes and looking at the clock and righteously closing my eyes again, pulling the covers tighter, and letting my electrons do their own work on all the membranes while I sleep.
Do not underestimate sleep. Sleeping keeps you young.
Waking up in the morning ( when you are a sexy vamp ) makes you old.
There are some who like to pretend/ feel better than others by over-doing things, like running around in circles. Those circles are small, child, like the vacuum sound you hear when you enter a revolving door sucking the life out of you.
Yeah, THOSE circles will drag you down.
And I am not talking about how your mama said those kids at the movie theatre were hooligans and they would 'drag you down,' I am talking about the will to live. Dragging the will.

If I die, I want no one to attach a ball and chain to my will and drag it around. I don't even know what my will is, but I certainly do not want to be misrepresented.

The C.I.A. owns face book.

F.y.i., I signify.

Truth be told.
I heard, she said, he said.

I went to sleep last night whispering "Oh My Goddess," just like my buddy says in the computer lab. I thought of her tonight when I made a sweet potato in the oven and the catfish tried to get kleenex out of the box on the table.

I always think of Jeremy when I eat pizza.
I think of Melissa when I go to the gym.
I think of Donnon whenever I eat curried carrots.
I think of Trink whenever I buy shampoo.
I think of Gretch whenever I go to the airport.
I think of Sarah when I put on my face creams, take vitamins, break open vitamins to put them on my face and whenever I vacuum at 2am.

I think of a stranger when I look in the mirror.
My learning disability is cropping up again, here, now.

( ram das? )

I could be in full flight from reality without people. ( That's why I like them so much. )

Has anyone ever said, "You're Crazy" to you?
What about every day?
I was a teenager when my response began to be, "You're stupid."

Would you rather be stupid or crazy?

Ha. I never was too good at comebacks. I think I will write more next time.