16 Jul 2013, 12:43pm
Writing
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Listening to Radiohead on a Monday morning after a long weekend at hospital

The morning bell / The morning bell /
Light another candle and / Release me / Release me

I don’t know where my sunshine is going /
or even if it matters to anyone but me now. Lately it seems like it’s only my going/
me holding less what used to be mine in both hands now / my sunshine is going /
i don’t know why / even if that is only my personal reason/my excuse / i need redemption /
myself being only an illlusion/ me being me. While I’m stuck in the bottom of it now/ I don’t
even know what my going does other than confuse things / My child is so happy to be a child. I
feel wicked for making him grow up watching him get sick. Get well my son get well. //

Yesterday I was looking for house plans to replace one i’ve lost twice now. /
I don’t want to lose this one. It is a simple house. It is Honest to me. Without any holes without
any openings besides doors and patios. (My windows are open to screens now) I have lived in
This house in the desert./in the street /I was happy/ You may have seen me there did you not.
You don’t need a car you just park your bike by the side of my house. My son you cannot live
with me there now but you can live with me here a while longer. //

The music I listen to is strange to me now. Strange to my children. I miss the old familiar /
Fleetwood Mac in the backseat / falling asleep while my parents drive to a friends house fpr a
party/ & it;’s ummer / & one of their kids has a knife / I get cut / we play legos / my son plays
legos / he has built many things. / in the hospital he asks for two lego sets and he builds them
both beforeour very eyes / be well my son be well/ i kiss his head / i don’t know what else to do
for him now except to keep looking for legos.//

after he falls / we pick him up & his face turns blue & / we scream & somehow he is alive again.
/ where was he going where are we going?

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