Inspiration

by the times of great inspiration
I seem to be lost somewhere else
tracked by a remote notion of what
seems to be THE THING
other times, I gotta be like Hunter S. Thompson
and provoke my own cahos
I bring myself to that
make the magic
of writing it down.
other times, I'm too lazy
to pick up a pencil
and a piece of paper
so I sit down
and imitate
a sound
until the sound is tired of being imitated
and shuts up
other times, I get my sward
and I fight my ideas
never won the battle
but I'm proud,
so I insist
got a lot of willpower.
in the end,
this is all very simple:
some may say I'm a happy woman
I got some papers, some loads, some men

and most of the time
I write, I sleep, I fuck, I love and I eat

May the forces of evil get lost on the way to your doorstep

People have funny ways of saying goodbye
they generally never say it.
they hold it to themselves
and force to maintain it
where it doesn't get out
not even a single slice
disguised by low movements and
simple actions
as crawling down the street with lamp eyes
looking out for meat
or damn minds
or only for a simple source of love
confort
tender
for the nub
reachable in someone else
what do I have to say?
we don't really know how to say goodbye
we own this human system of get
attached to things
not knowing when to give them back
but there are lots of things
out there in the world
and we will often realize that we are all
poor bastards that want
too much,
and that
goodbye is sometimes a blast