by trade

i probably won't get a chance to write later since i'll have work and not want to do more than come home and shower. i figured i'd write now (right now) and have an entry for the day, which, is what i'm going for.

so, i wrote some piece last night before bed.

"haze"

eyes deceived, i don't care what's true

i don't care what,

you hold in your hands.

i'm not interested in the fingertips-

the exposed marrow

i am ruthless, i am wrong.

i'd tell you to find me,

but my intentions aren't

what you're hoping for.

you're lucky no one knows me at all

i am breathless, fleeting and raw.

so meet me in the smoke house,

with the leaves in your hair.

...

honestly, it's nothing i am proud of. everything i end up writing is some oddly abstract piece without care or structure to poetic devices or lyrical flow. if it ends up as either one, it is merely by chance. oh well though, i don't really write for the hope of doing anything with it. it is just some ventilation of ideas through fingertips and plastic keys on an electrical board.