stuck in the library

on a beautiful day
and all i want to do is go outside and play. and write.
write write write all about it.
much more interesting than this.
and my mother gives up, its too confusing
she'd ask the teacher to do it for her.
i dont blame her.

i woke this morning with a gigantic stupid grin on my face.
and an overwhelming urge to make music.

see, the inspiration lives inside of me,
it pushes and pulls thoughts, manipulations, concentrations
out of my head and onto a powerbook, or sometimes paper.
sometimes it gets stuck, and its like this strange thing i saw last night...
two people tightly embracing, and a third pushing his way through any possible opening,
birthing himself and struggling,
all the while they are wearing no skin, with their insides out. side.

so sometimes the thoughts get stuck and they have to struggle, push pull persist
and get out.
sometimes a pen sometimes a keyboard sometimes a cell phone with voice memo.

and "new forms" by roni size with bahamadia will always, always, always remind me of
HER.
the her i could never have, but somehow did on one distinctly randomn night.
the night that the stars lined up in such a way as to permit something that had been prohibited,
she prohibited, i prohibited, we were inhibited
but the memories flash with such a familiarity that im slow to recognize the years that have passed.
the changes that have crashed in my mind,


im afraid im quelling the passion within me in order to fit into a box, a mold that i didnt like in the first place.
but now im stuck in it, like jello.
unless, i eat through the horse hooves and find my way out of the box.

enough, i must start slurping jello...i think i'll get a stomach ache.