Klee

What's your mood? What are you doing right now? Sitting there, standing there, waiting, waiting, waiting, never mind all that! I've got you now. Its my turn to have you in my hands and shape your mind like a piece of mud and make pancakes or waffles or calculus. My turn is all we play, but this is no game, no stakes, nothing but fun and yet I've said no too many times so now it doesn't make sense again. Sense is always what we make of it and never what it seems, haven't you guessed? Sometimes you're the hat, sometimes you're the hare, sometimes you're holding the switch, trigger, bag. What does it take? Another question? Is this mad enough yet, discombobulated? Shifting your brains from questioning to accepting to apathy or boring you to death. But its not been quite long enough, I feel, for a thing, such as that. Why is this space not good for me? I am writing yes, but it's not what I want. My head hurts. Its too full. There are sounds and feelings and thoughts everywhere and it never stops, stops. All the time. Now. Yesterday aftemorrevenight there is pain was pain will be pain. It doesn't hurt enough to do something. Can I be better if it does not at all? Isn't the right time but time is never right and clever won't do. So long. Work but not what I want. Isn't the problem my focus? Its all me, all. The problems stem from me, root from me, flower from me, so stop making me remember me. Let me forget I.