2003-09-10 - 1:28 p.m.
I have it in my head but it isn't in my heart
a brushstroke in the bed with a primitive art
that's as far as it goes and intuition knows
I'll be thrashing in the throes of my diminished prose
and it's eventually-esque
if I don't pass this test
but they don't teach that in this socio-educational mess
so I forge alone into my danger zone
a course that measures diction on a microphone
in the multitude of words there doesn't lack any sin
and it's back where I left off last as the place I begin
so on the way around the maze of these meanderings
I take it slow and check the ways -- surreal ramblings
but the Spirit doesn't goad me as I shrimp lo mein
as I remain detained in this procrasting vein
as I dawdle with the bottle with the last to be slain
He's simply saying here, as I'm delaying here,
"Please don't be staying here,"
And, "don't play into fear"
"The joy's ahead, my dear,
And I am always near
And you shall not be damned
If you stray where I am"
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