copy cat copy cat find your home

i don’t know what makes a person good!
interesting thing
those who steal others’ words
i read them through a few times
go yea that was mine
way back in the old days
on myspace –at least
i know now to not trust
the “writer” who does not write
could play a game
try to guess whose words
are being stolen the next time
and the next

the sun is still dark
at the edges of a silent curtain
as my back twists i feel the bones grind
and i yawn
roll over
find the tablet in my hand
little world wrapped inside
magical world
constantly swirling and changing
you dive into it with your eyes
dive out of it
to the next time and the last time
eternity laughed

there is nothing like the first smell and
sniff of coffee
before a quiet sip
knowing you must come alive
decide the day is day and the night was night

all in the doing
satisfaction in creation
the poor thing misses out
on the only part of writing that matters

muse? no more like the fountain
the river of emotion
that boils and bubbles
and then the will to turn and
shape the desire
to know similarities
and to treasure

so i want to say,
“silly! you missed out on the best part!”
it’s in the doing….
but i closed the page
walked out of my tablet
and smiled up at the ceiling


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