Giving Up The Gun

Usually, Mondays are alright.

But somehow, Monday, February seventh

Sort of sucked.

Phone = waterlogged.

Not sure if it'll ever work again.

I have become crazy-obsessive over this

Poetry project,

And being the total dolt that I am,

I was all "Dude! I'll film it! It'll be cool!"

No.

No, it is not cool.

I'd rather be plugging away at a powerpoint.

Three hours later and I've worked so hard

For so little.

I have probably a total of three/four minutes of footage.

And it's not like I wanted it

To be.

I don't know.

I'm so close to giving up,

And just giving up on Ginsberg for right now.

Go crawling back to EE Cummings,

Short, lovely poems.

Dying slowly,

Being stabbed to death by what I

Love.

And it's hurting

So beautifully,

I'll write my words in pools of my own blood

If I have to.

So be it,

I will gladly stake myself to the land of poetry.

It is the only place I think I belong.

Overwhelmed.

Is what I am.

Overwhelmed is where I'll be

All week.

I'm very done with February already.

Oh well.