Am I writing this to procrastinate,
Or perhaps I am finally finding time to ruminate?
Perhaps a bit of both.
Maybe I am simply just doing a finger warm up.
I don’t really want to tackle this essay,
nobody ever does—
but what’s the other option?
Ponder, weigh, assess;
Speculate all the decisions I’ve made in my life
All the missed opportunities.
Missed people. Missed memories.
Missed apologies? Mistakes?
I am just writing this to procrastinate.

When day breaks,
And might should come,
But nothing,
Nothing but
Nothing.

When noon marches,
And the sheets feel heavy,
The air of the room
Fastening you
Down.
                                                            
Then night settles in,
And your bones buzz,
And your muse says
"Tomorrow
And
Tomorrow
And..."
Wait
That's something else.

I'm not sleepy, and there ai
n't no place
I'm going to, this is it now, … then I come again, return,
interrupting my self with crosscurrents,
these are those
riptides in opposing forces shifting
enemies
to good fellow earthling survivors, spinning in the system,
pole to pole and back
never the same river twice,
but always the pattern,
meandering,
serpentine, path of least resisting

we know we are of the samesame value,
goodwise. truewise freemade with a will
to live in happy, the state of mind,
ever after all of that…

from now on
whatever ever changes, we are
in the mix,
this is id est time-ated, tict to
silent breathing commas,
in our mutual mind space
aloud
at any given instant
or moment, moment
works instant in season
out of season,
how did you make sense of that?

This way, right.
I knew at the moment then it was past,
this is ever after, never the same,

fluid-ity enticed to artifice interfaces,
knows to gnose, epistemic tehkne
sci-psy-psi

with use, knowing takes on a second nature,
less guessing, let the cloud calculate the tip, wait

what is this tip, this social debt, I owe the server?

Stupid question, certain
impulses
urge me to declare, look it up, but you know,
if you were the server,
you know…

if you were the aimer,
you know,
if you were the trigger, you wait
to be the joke that starts the whole world laughing.

------
Survival of the we-ity bits of wits,
was we an effort
to imagine?

We, the idea. Who imagined that?
I could not form an image,
imagine, yes
form, in form fit an
i-dea
ology ****, where did she come from,
wait, is she the mother of all living?

who told this story, after whatever
resulted in now,
when we know, we all are related,
matrilineally,
mom-wise,
...?
if we were to reason, for a moment,
of the expansive sort, see

without the knack for vision my
people
perish. So seeing eyes and hearing ears,
goodsense forethought, backup
senses

great ideas in the ongoing perfection
of ever after,
post Disney ification of the servant corp,

and creds to Berners-Lee and the CERN
concern for how ideas may
evolve from necessity inventing
Frank Zappa in time to fix Romania's budget.

Still in time.
Or so I thought.
          
           Fooled.
Overwhelmed by an emotion of unwanted desire,
Knowing there’s an island on the other side.

But

Fooled by fear
I drown slowly
In a calm despair.

I know there are chores to be done
Laundry pile is growing large and looming
The corner of my room overcrowded
Bin sits and as I wait it's blooming

I fear there be dishes in the sink
If I listen close I can hear
Cry out my name shamelessly
I try not to get too near

I am not blind to the layer of dust
All objects on my bedside table
Mom wasn't lying when she remarked
"This coated house is disgusting!"
"It looks like a stable!"

But don't feel like doing anything
Washing dishes
Or clothes
Or cleaning
I think I'll just lose myself
Some deeper meaning

Escape ,
that's what I would do
when things would get tough.
I would binge,
dream, eat, read & scroll.

I would create another world
where I would live,
free to be.
The place I would
forget about my happenings,
but this was not reality.

I would procrastinate and escape,
but my reality would await
to cuff me away.

With every escape,
my reality would become
a struggle to face

To everyone I was living life
but was I?
For my body was anchored to this world
While my head flew to another

Then came a time
When I no longer wanted to hide
Even though I knew
I did not have the appetite
Because my reality had
become so hard to emotionally swallow
But there was no choice
but to face

Courage
Step by Step
Patience through it all
Change finally came across
And my reality had become a better place

Procrastination
Is some kind of action
Which needs no talent
Nor does it need passion
Procrastination
Time is always delayed
Meetings are always postponed
It gets nothing accomplished
Procrastination
The silent thief of time
Leaves no trace nor sign
In the end you'll fall behind