(aren't we all in hostage situations?)
i print off letters-
switching names and numbers,
saying all the same things.
in my stomach there's a flutter;
could it be? i start to stutter (talking to a client)
distracted by the sound of my own voice
i don't want to wrap myself
in blankets of words
a shield from all
the harsh reality that is
the emotional weather at hand
"the forecast for today"-
slightly neurotic, 85% chance of road rage,
10% chance of tears, with scattered laughter..
I'll think i need a cigarette at some point (need is so weird).
no one knows.. the weatherman never does
i must get out of this building
look for myself
while i'm at it,
i'll look for my SELF
...i must be around here somewhere ...