I Just Long for a Bungalow, Part I

As I sit still I hear the rattling,
it's filling up the room,
the air is cold, it feels of dust
on construction afternoons.
My desk is rightly messy,
I never clean at all.
My eyes shut tight, a sneeze
rings out, echoes in the hall.

And that's where I stopped, a phone call interrupting my "poetry". No worries if it didn't turn your crank, I don't claim it to be epic, or even any good at the delicate art of using a few words in order to say so much. Just something I do when I'm in a mood. Which is funny to me—and maybe that's why I do it—because I'm not the poetry type. Not often. I like Dickenson. And sometimes Dr. Suess hits the nail. But more often than naught, poetry and me pass in the night and we're lucky we don't sink each other in the murkiness.

I rhyme. That's my inherent flaw and while I'll never be poet laureate. Of anything. I rhyme. Like song lyrics. Of course there is great poetry set to rhyming couplets, words of such beauty that clip along at a beautiful pace, dancing on the tongue like sprites around the feet of Oberon.

I remember the last time I wrote more than one poem in a twenty-four hour period. It wasn't a good time. Though the poems were fun. I should try to find them sometime. Maybe be so bold as to publish them online. I'm laughing. Out loud. In my quiet room where the small fan that once clung to modular dormatory furniture now hums a white-noise tune from the edge of my dresser.

It's late. Or early. That time of day that I once claimed I missed seeing. And I did—but all too often now I find myself awake in the middle of the night just tyring to wrap up another long day. I keep saying that July will be calmer, more peaceful. But then you have to have some hope to keep going. At least I do.

Ah, to sleep. Peacefully and not with a hacking cough that robs you from your rest. There. I coughed. I thought it and it was so. Maybe if I think I'm a millionaire, that might work too.

...

Nope. Nothin'. Oh well. Now I'm just posting in a delirium-induced state. Exhaustion and a little bit of Blue Moon Summer Ale. Never good when mixed. Fotunately, I'm just self-aware enough to realize that things could be said here which could not be repaired. That or I'd just piss some people off for a while and have to wait for them to cool off before joking about it.

And I'm spent. Just thought I'd wrap something up tonight. Started this blog the other day at work. And can I just say, what a week. So much has happened and yet, to the outside world, nothing has changed. Trust me on this one.

Glad you guys enjoyed my first Vlog. I will endeavor to do some more of those. And if I can, I will add another post sometime on Sunday. Something tells me this is a two post day.