the home of madness



looking at oneself
from the outside in
(needless to say from the inside out)
parenthesis at such an early moment
its been too long
or perhaps its not at all
i have tried i really have tried
never allowed my self any form of repetition in my writing (a i e)
its from the outside that always eluded me on every conceivable level
longer sentences and more fingers in play like a rusty cog turning for the first time
been overwhelmed by cramp in all the extremis
digits in every sense dense and intense
the feeling is what counts something i firmly believe is in very short supply
on a quantum level
its a dance of the digits and i am in no mood to explain
so whom are we writing to
whats the point or more pertinently is there a point does the actual point exist or is that another falicy falous felacious felafel verkrampt
ag nee man
write arm in the air since 1973 and a proper tune in everyones head
who says it must make sense
(will it be read)
where are the frogs why are there engines its almost time
time that demonic creature from the deep recess of my inactive mind
how many how much how there for how there fore how therefore
on time as always the load has been shed
shadows deep and dark floating in the wind of time its a loop for sure time
bounce bounce bang bravo bravado brave being bored
the silence is deafening
my mind might have disappeared but it remains on top
where is the top and who is there assuming there is a who to this
flip flop bounce bounce
render the reality and deliver the pain
yes it hurts but the pain is of the pleasant variety
no it hurts and the pain is no longer there yes there
i am going to attempt to write right
coherence and confusion along the way
campaign and champion – there is a way
always been wired and always fearful of repition with an i
i write for me and so i draw for you