a spic and span room later.... freewriting.

I really can’t think of this as anything other than the tired
Cold air that renews me. It shivers and silvers. Not silvers.
It shivers. It tickles. It sounds like life, so clean and sharp. It shivers.
It singles. I am so clean and sharp but my edges so soft and warm.
I shiver. I don’t shiver, I stumble. I see the heat. I state the tree.
I can’t see this doing something other that licking the tongue,
Linking the bones. Linking the bones, severing the tired still. The still
Tired that feels like the marrow of tired, the shortness of tired. The still
That tests the tiredness, like the yard, like the kitchen where the wedding
Saw clearness but the food was terribly disorganized. Clearness. The wedding
Was, clearly, and the leaves and petals were seriously good. What
A sharp and kindly wedding. I wish I could attend. I wish I could tend
To my tension, tensely. I wish I could tensely see the East Falls side
Walk and wouldn’t feel so slippery, so staked out by my own tendencious
Tendentious tendency, my mendacity, my need for silence and drama. My silence
Will not protect me bells ring and I’m told the truth. My silence doesn’t tend to the truth but
My serious time doles out the story, tiny, tiredly, my serious time extends the story until.
Until. My serious time tells the truth. The truth is time to let this go. Letting go. I can’t think of thin can’t think of this thing can think on this time riding that, riding that wave to myself. Wave to myself. Wave to myself. Riding that damn wave to myself. My
Story is too tiny to be told, to tiny! Too, too tiny to be true. My story is tiring. Let’s
Tell the story somehow too. Let’s stars be tired tonight and sparkle anyway, cause life
Is a journey. Let the staras sparkle tonight. They don’t deserve to be too split from the life
That creeps and jumps up onto the desk. The starters spark tonight. Chat chat chart. The charter’s drafted, the lights and stars spark it. Let’s done some lyrics, let’s sleep in time.