20 Past 7 (A Musing From 2011)

Journal Entry - 2011

Time becomes blended, passed. 
days, weeks, all grown too fast.

Missing the way
the sun,

sings you out of slumber

at 20 past 7.

José days 

and

Fountains of Blue hues,

keep me from for too long.

Hiding in late nights

and circus castles,

A moment, a pause,

a clinging, a claw. 

Yet

An undercurrent,

an amnesia 
of I can't sit still

Keep moving

Keep growing

In the midst of being

at 20 past 7

the sun is setting.

Third floor amphetamine chatter,

Massive intake, 

divinity inhale -

Slam on the synthetic keys, 

do you feel it?

Keep the energy
high, 

high, 

high,

high.
5 hours made short.

Exhaustive floods of 

life is too long -

life is too short.

Tantalized by company, 

intrigued by their bed

A soft light is now glowing.

Downstairs has died down long ago.

2 men left-standing.

At 20 past 7. 

You ask, do you want to go for coffee?

but I really want to be alone.

Brisk walk to the diner,

Deeps drags off the smooth.

Coffee, black.

Do you always drink your coffee black? 

Always.

Craving dazed, warm solitude,

the kind found in ancient silk

away from coffee stains.

I am growing too fast,

Times become blended.

Ready to head back? 

I was,

at 20 past 7.