there's this piece i want to write, but i think i have to be a little bit more straight to do it.

i've got yards of flow, but sometimes yards of flow aren't enough.

it's like

i've got the mic that rocks the party

and after the party there's the after party

and after the after party there's the hotel lobby...

but after that...

there is the time in the room

and after that there's real life again

and the time when yr not on the computer and yr not really anywhere

traveling in between places

on a train

or city bus

stuck in traffic

midnite, on the autobahn...

yr thoughts trailing out in front of you or else sucked behind.

while the moon peers down like a cop

who hides his billy club behind his back

and all of a sudden you feel a twinge of panic

the taste in yr mouth of time running out...

yr loves and yr life, suddenly up for review,

while esoteric noise rock from finland plays softly on the tiny dashboard speakers...

all of this, all these moving targets

is what i'm trying to include in my writing.

anyway, it's almost time
i feel it rising up within me like a tidal wave
washing away all doubt

and resetting the ancient iron machines

whose thermodynamic motion cast the odds

and set the scales by which a life is to be judged...

i tried to say a prayer before

but i got distracted half-way through and ended up playing with the equalizers on my fat ass stereo system instead.

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