Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Restlessness is a slotted spoon. Even if you fill it with jello it eventually oozes out through the holes, leaving the it empty.

I keep refilling a slotted spoon. I had stew in it for a few days, a nice reprieve, but I can see the floor through it again.

I ask myself what I want, what I want to do, ask myself what I should be doing. I don't have a good answer for any of these questions.

Aware that I'm in a waiting room. No chairs, no magazines. No windows, no doors.

Just walls.

it's like insomnia while I'm awake. Except I'm not waiting to go back to sleep.

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