my response to tc's staccato

late night forays
delving into the bottoms of bottles
my entire world reeks of whisky
too sleepy to work
too much work to sleep
these shots of espresso taste like magic on my tongue

last night i wrote the following in pencil straight onto the top of my desk:

she cut herself shaving
the morning of the first day that they met
a long fine line
like the way a pencil slashes across the page
held in a hand that's fighting sleep

i want to write more
but just now
i don't know how

staccato is a fine word. rich. evokes the sense of distinct plucking. i once wrote a love letter based on the definition of the word crescendo. and haven't regretted it since. but it's legato that i think about, mostly. that i search after. a smooth even style without any noticeable breaks. connection.