That's Not Writing That's Just Typing: Friday Stream of Consciousness

*in case anyone was wondering what goes on in my brain when I have writer's block:*

Clothes don't fit.
I'm a misfit.
Don't spit.
Dry wit.

Four tattoos.
Four pair of shoes.
Paid my dues.
Listen to blues.
Look for clues.

Choctaw. Chickasaw. Cherokee. Creek.
Blessed are the meek.
Don't take Greek, but go to Greece.
Turn the other cheek, but don't see Grease.
Shepherd the flock, but try not to fleece.
Who is Ed Meese?

Film splice.
Roll the dice.
Try to play nice.

Read a book.
Don't give me that look.
Breakfast nook.

Bad hair.
Bowl a spare.
Send up a flare.
Jordan-Hare.
Don't care.

I-T guy.
Don't know why.
Program spy.
Glass eye.

Meeting.
Greeting.
Beating.
Deleting.

Sun is up, kinda.
I'd like an 18-month rewind-a.
I think I'm going blind-a.
I don't know what I'm going to find-a.
Maybe shekinah.
Mabye not.

Late night.
Not quite right.
Not taking flight.

It's a thnead I'm needing.
Cut but not bleeding.
Books I'm not reading.
Or writing.
Or typing.

Dry.
well.
Why?
well...

I don't think this helped.
I don't think this hurt.

Neither time nor place.
Wasted space.
Time waste.
Bigger waist.

(at least I closed the circle)