i just don't know what I should be doing.
Perhaps because I have always had those things that I needed to do
and now I have time.
Time when I thought I would be finally able to get my own thing done
and I am frozen.
I think in prose
dream about painting
see myself writing songs
imagine the dresses and beads and braids
I don't challenge the status quo
yet I allow myself to be dreary because of it
the great "it"
whatever it is.
and on and on and on and on and on.
I have many things bursting to be said yet
the topic is too much of a challenge to handle
i can not manage how my audience would hear it
and I don't believe myself strong enough to care
so, I sit.
and I do the dishes
and I get fat
and I allow it.
All the news talks of doomsday
and I wait for it
under that type of duress
my skkills would shine.
I live the life that people die for
that people are dying for