The Drivel Thread

Little veins of reasons to hope are trickling into me.
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Now Tell It Like It Is plays in my head yet again. I’m verging on being too cold. I might go back to bed very soon.
 
On a beach in my mind’s eye just now. Okay I’ll stop reporting on every thought than runs through my head.
 
A crow is madly cawing outside my window. It's only just beginning to get light out. Tell It Like It Is is still quietly in my head.
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I will rip your mask off
You are a sheep in wolf’s clothing
You will possibly ruin me for it
I will be ready to pay the price
For I cannot stand to feel my integrity stagnating
It is the core of me
What is an income and wonderful housing
Without a core to call home
I will make my stand
Singing Morrissey’s song
I’m Not A Man
I may be wiped off the face of the earth for it
But I have no choice in the matter
Otherwise, I’m just an empty shell
With no one inside
No one worth knowing anyway
 
I don’t want to be alone with K again. Not for at least a month. And I don’t want her to meet with me in my apartment anymore.
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Just woke up from another nap and could feel the sore on my chest seeming to begin to metastasize. There's no music in my head for a change.
 
Just got back from a walk. Gave only one Morrissey sticky note, to a young Asian couple with a small son who gave me a look of curiosity. They were thankful. Then near my door neighbours were gathered with their dogs talking about ice cream. The conversation stayed superficial for ten or fifteen minutes, and I lost interest and went home.
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I’m aiming to paint in about two hours. I’ve been writing in my head, just in my head mostly, so far. I want to set aside some time today to commit the words to a document. So I’ve got two hours to nap some more, to just sit here and ponder the state of the world, with the sound of crows squawking coming in through the window. I don’t feel like watching Morrissey videos. Taking a break, though I would welcome the real thing. I’m too melancholic to sit here watching right now. Maybe after I paint, and then soon afterward, write.
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Just woke from another nap. I dreamt I was having a conversation with a very serious man who stood before me. Tell It Like It Is plays in my head once again.
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Tags
anxiety bloody awful poetry testing the waters trying to feel good in your own skin trying to make friends wanting to alleviate anxiety wanting to feel safe to be honest wanting to have integrity
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