today like everyday

why am i obsessed with writing?
it just doesn't ever STOP.
i'm addicted to it like a dream.
like a stride pianist,
these words and images
keep coming to me
and i place them with such a melody.

there is a bounce bass,
and a low vowel held for measures.
a high howl of sudden bops!
and petite pleasures.
with such a sad richness to its moving soil,
its like a hot jazz combo killing
a crowd with machine gun banter
- what tone, breath and exhale.
a climbing god upon the stairwell
into stardom.
the very myth we question.
ah, writing is a farewell
to the future.
6 hours a day
into heavy drive.
its as if lifting weights
or jumping jacks in the morning
instead of coffee - although,
there is lots of coffee
and mixed cigarettes,
time and handling.
jacking off into the chilly cold
announcing in
sighs.
wet soup and bread for days.
a few shots and beers around.
scares, threats and consultations.
a few kisses over phone calls.
nocturnal sunshine of the mind
i am holy, a writer.
a bygone be bygone
freak of nature.
incessant fool am i,
although desireous
of such essence,
essence of measure.