charles mee

the (re)making project

The Plays

Hotel Cassiopeia [sample]

by Charles L. Mee

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I work in the basement.
That's where I keep all my materials
for my work.
And I think:
What am I doing?
I've lost my way
why don't I give it up?
there are times I get so lost
I don't know what to do
I've gone so deep, so far
I don't know if I'll ever find my way out again
and then: what's the point?
is this useful?
does anyone care?
I get up in the morning
some days I just weep and weep
is everything I do just written on water?
but what else can I do?
just because another artist is incredibly famous
doesn't mean his work is destined to fall
into oblivion in another generation
and my work will endure
is this any way to spend a life?
I'm living my life in a basement.

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