Creativity begets Creativity
That moral seems so forced to me
Yet it somehow seems to work
But I need sleep to be somewhat useful
And alarms are pounding in my head already
I’ve got bigger fish to fry
So I can’t be this stupid
It’s the final rehearsal
And I haven’t had a wink of sleep-
All I’ve done is draw and write and dance
But that’s good, too!
I spread myself thinly-
I’m red jam on brown toast
My neck is clicking and I’m covered in bug-bites from living my life
I catch apparitions in the corners of my eyes
I could blame it on lack of sleep but I’m self aware
And “superstitious”
I’m skeptical only of that term
How come it’s superstitious when it’s what I believe
And yet the shaman bedecked in gold broadcast to the world is holier than thou
I think that’s rather stupid
If beliefs make you better, the specifics shouldn’t matter
I’m probably just sounding like a bitter ex-catholic schoolgirl
Which I am
But I need to sleep and do my spiritual routine
Praying and thinking about ghosts-
One shouldn’t be considered more valid than the other in my book
But I’m just repeating myself by now
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