these ideas, how they won't spare me

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Heads down, tails flicking, sun on their backs, they come toward me.

These ideas of mine. These sudden revelations. These stories I seek to shape. Must shape. Now.

A mind in utter revolt, so much of the time.

Sleep, I urge myself.

Save the world from yourself.

And yet the heat is real. The need to move forward. Move again.


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