Sunday, May 22

Publish or Perish

What kind of writer am I if I detest writing? If it's torture to me, a painful, shameful occupation. - Stalker (1974)

In My Head

In my head you're a figure skater
angel imitator with angles and arrangements
wearing your sequences
dressed in pretenses 

In my head you're a Greek goddess
you wreak hotness, a hot topic
you speak knowledge
you pique interest in a bright pink dress 

In my head
is a sequestered spot of webs
festering drops of thoughts of you just lying in my bed 

In my head you're an elegant model
echoing a heroine shooting up rivals
unraveling your looks to kill
digging 'em like a fossil 

In my head you're a godsend
A drop-in, a stop and
look for options of toxins
when you're not in 

In my head I'm sending love to ya
ballad in poetry form
something for you to notice me more
notably only been pen pushing for ya 

In my head you're a wide angle close up
35 millimeters of motion
Raw data of movie film
4 quadrants of beautiful
All credits go to you 

In my head you're an archive of mysteries
a myth, a bunch of whispering
with a bunch of class, full of history
while I'm wistfully in disarray 

In my head you're a folklore
A wives' tale, a brass ring
an underdog, a dark horse,
a pasture of mass glass menagerie 

In my head we've never met
you never left, you're still involved
I can attest that I haven't addressed
that in my head I've imagined it all