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
my excuse.
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
can not.
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
in droves
every day

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