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