Thursday, 27 November 2014

a diary excerpt circa 2010

You could say that this is a complicated relationship
and that's why I can never say it properly
I stutter

your name, three words
Never smooth

You could say that this is a complicated relationship
Like a complicated math problem
- the kind you do over and over
Coming up with fresh answers every time but
none of them feel right

You don't feel right, but

It's complicated
Like when you try to explain that poetry isn't easy
It isn't just writing words
It is thinking and compromise and digging when you
are too tired to lift the shovel

But no one sees that when you write something like
"The sea is speaking to me in a derogatory tone"

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