Dear G,
Well, I've been avoiding doing this, but I feel like I have to say something. I mean, KNOCK KNOCK, are you still there? I'm worried about you. You've gone all... dark and quiet, so unlike you. I think I like it better when you rant and rave. Since you've been in retreat or whatever I've been thinking you might explode, you know? You're usually so... emotive! What's going on? Are you mad, sad, scared? Is it all about autism, or is it more? Can I do anything? Take care of yourself... WRITE.
Love,
Me.
Dear Me,
Thanks. Good questions. Not sure. Yes, and no. I'm ok, I think. Just can't quite find my sentences. Maybe a poem?
Where was I?
Wound licking
worry wicking
nothing clicking
treat tricking
list ticking
fingers flicking
a bit of ass kicking
no room for goldbricking
stuck doors still sticking
mind-pimple picking
thin or thicking
where i am
Love, G
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
That's a slammin' poem, G! I like it. :-)
have been wondering the same things. So glad to hear your voice. XO
Post a Comment