Friday, January 25, 2008


Everything is in my heels.
Like someone came in the night
and slid all of the things that are usually
"on my shoulders",
the weight of the world,
into my shoes.
The weight of my world is in my heels,
meaning I can't walk at my usual speed..
then again,
how fast can you really walk
when you don't know where you're headed?

Sorry, that's all I've got.

Not much for a pro is it? Never mind,
'cause failure clearly is an option,
or hobby.
Which this can't be anymore,
'cause I may not want to nourish myself right now,
but at some point I'll need to.

I can do this
I am strong
I am big
I just need to
get it out of my heels and

onto a page
or a line
onto a stage.

Just a stage

of transition

I'm just in shock,

I'm sure fruition
is around the corner,
I just need more time.

I'm just so fragile,

the spaces between my own lines shake me,
the lines that used to make me
now feel bad, feel out to break me,

my lines are woven, strung up,
waiting for my neck,
my life,
dead or alive?

Line of my life, or noose?
Fight, or flight?

Here I begin.

Find a brave face for a stranger,
& a dropped pin.

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