free write because i can't write right anymore and i don't know how to let that dust that yellow dust go i had fingertips once that just couldn't quit even when they tapped on your lips and nothing else they moved to the rhythm of something other than hey there thanks so much eff why eye can't let you go the weight of security is not a blanket its a tarp and its choking me and security can never feel free when you require it you don't want to think critically about it because then where will i be can't stop it need it and it's funny that the institution that opens our eyes costs so much that we need to shut them curl up hold on shortly after and when will we bloom again? a tease a near orgasm of light and experience followed immediately by the dry choke of fantasy and is that philosophy? a throbbing pang of wonder a glimpse of understanding only to be shut and shuttered in the cold winds of debt? i couldn't tell you now because this impotence is whetted by the nine to five and the five oh nine each week please tell me i'm just weak that this won't last that i'm just adjusting for a year that the thrill will come back fill my lungs strain my brain pry my eyes and never let me go. it was there once in spring and winter a tingle head to toe no sleep no rest writing breathing believing and what will there be now? health and welfare and the IRA the 401K the diplomatic email the slip that's pink and having to smile for those with the something borrowed blue when you know i don't want to and maybe i should just stop complaining because this is what it is to become a tumor on one's own soul. to separate oneself from nature. and what good will that do when i'm reaching for the dust and trying to will it back into my fingers for one last shot?