The dust settles on my typewriter from unuse.
The walls reverberate with each key pressed.
It is this that I dine on, uncover, and undress.
It is this, this and this, that music questions.
My nails need cut, I need to shave, my hair is long,
yet none of these effect my appetite for revenge.
I am writing now, yes, this is the act of writing.
I am self-reflective now, yes, this is the act of self-reflection.
Sometimes when I get lonely, I look out my window
and wonder if other people are looking out their window too.
It goes bible, bible, cookies on my floor.
My guitar watches this contradiction of spirit.
I am alive, yes, I am alive. Each breath
is a little rejoice of another moment of life.
This work by Scott Stewart is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.