Here's a truck stop instead of Saint Peter's

I feel overwhelmed and I don't know why. Fear. Anxiety. Failure. Isolation. Distance. I just feel like there's a weight above me -- crushing down on me when I try to sleep -- when I stand still. Not so much a dark cloud as a thickness -- that looms above me and makes it pointless to even try.

I want the hummingbirds, the dancing bears -- sweetest dreams of you.

Over my shoulder a piano falls... crashing to the ground.

Now where's the breaking through? The bending spoons? Flowers in full bloom? And answers from the great beyond? Stick with the rhythm, people, it's a classic AND YOU'RE FUCKING IT UP.

The spoons are plastic and I'm tired.


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