Petrifaction

Listen you ignorant crass BASTARD!

Yes, YOU!

Now I’m getting facetious and letting slip that since June 8 1980 I haven’t made one FUCKING bit of progress—no way. Situation ‘hold’. Unshaven, things in a mess, looking ill-fitting, wrong somehow in the mirror, not to the desired formula. I look a mess.

I think about things that pain me: the loss of momentum, mystification of objectives. “Break through in the grey room”? More like petrifaction.

Rain outside, but no more on that here, because I feel I ought to sum things up with words of breathtaking, all encompassing wisdom and wit. 


Words of wisdom.
Words of wit.
Words that show I’m full of shit..
Words of splendour,
Words of power,
Words that show I’ve had my hour.
Words of facile, artless grace,
Words that mock me to my face.
Words like concrete,
Words that bend,
Words beginning-middle-end.
Words of insult.
Words of merit.
Words, my misfortune to inherit.