if the truth hurts

then lies engender disgust

I find scribbles like that everywhere in my wrioting on random pages that Ive turned on end

on their sides winding a line through them like a supple snake off an inspired  a long ago image

of a sidewinders tracks on a white desert dune

I should stop it

I confuse myself

I find palimpsest and illegible words

I find random historical names and places with no thought accounting why I wrote them at all

some pages are like tilted headstones in an overgrown outoftheway graveyard

I Should stop it

but I like the Confusion

I like the Discovery again

the illbred thoughts and inanity

a buggered imagination stinking of booze crawling on all fours out of an alley under a disconsolate moon

mi confesion

borisvian 

truce on drugs

mercedes

“memory believes before knowing remembers”

                                                                          I know thats Faulkner

it wouldnt be anyone other than Faulkner

prescience  draws a blank

0049,  Wednesday,  28  11. 12