Burnt Into the Face of Memory

It seems

I’ve bigged myself

up to a point

that I can’t see

the line

between ego

and insanity

I wrote because

something punched me

in the gut

I wrote because

of love

and now

now I write the

same things

over

over

and

over

I’m burnt out

wax sticking to my hand like glue

Wow

I should switch off

the light

smoke a joint

and forget who I am

for a week. 

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