pain in community of property

don't hurt
coz i hurt
and the hurt
is so bad
coz you're hurt.

it may as well have been

my neck wrung by
spectre hands

-- my queendom for instant ken
of therapeutic massage at 3am.

or my sleep bruised
by the sandpaper alarms

-- I, procrastinator-pro pushed on snooze 5, 6, times 17?
My sorry can't write your lost-dream endings.

Just because...

...you use
words
like
cognitive,

does not
make me
think well
of you.

nothing more pathetic than writing about writer's block

this static

is the grey-horrid
that makes
mash of minds,
lint for flint.

a muse out of
commission,
rehab/probation,
one forgets
what she's off of now.

I want to spew genius!
but all I bring up
is other people's corn.

i thought of this while creeping up the ass of the car in front of me yesterday

sun scalded eyes-
bones blasted by
the fourteenth pothole-
another
fucking taxi driver
who can't fucking indicate-
head heavy with the pain of sunset-
what is this crap they play on the radio these days-
clutch cramp-
no Sir, I don't have any change today-
dead traffic light-
tag on another half-hour of crawling up
the bum of the car in front of me-
mental congestion.

but you know

I'd drive
another thousand minutes of this
for coming home to you.