A Journal of Sorts
. o O ( of course I should be sleeping ) O o .
someday where this journal stands a great thought may rise if I had the time I would get it all together and remember the excitement of being alive but I've been so busy working and just treading water on the fringe of the whirlpool struggling to survive... waiting for godot to arrive... if I had the time I would answer all the questions and shake off all the rejections and leave the past behind but I've been so busy working on repairing the damage so caught up in the healing nearly out of my mind... waiting for godot to find... me... so mostly I just fake it trying hard not to break it wondering how long I can take it as I wither inside and the worst part of this tragedy is a kernel of my misery might somehow break the world in me left wihout fear or pride... waiting for godot to collide... with me... I have given up defending the facade that I'm pretending and the reason I'm extending this literary jibe is I've been lost for so long I have forgotten my song and don't know where I belong did I ever have a tribe?... waiting for godot to take the bribe... and now I pause as if I knew who godot was J |
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