There was a time when I wrote.
can't remember if it was a dream. Maybe deja vu. Or just a drunken moment.
But there was a time.
Today, this week, tomorrow there is only red blinking lights, obnoxious alarms, and humming hardware.
self inflicted? always.
with purpose? of course.
insanity? already there.
So put me under a tree, coffee at my tips and ink in my palm. And I will write whatever you will like.