PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

silence...might be nice

Thursday, May. 23, 2002

I have a feeling that I’m letting something valuable slip away from me.

I can’t pinpoint it.

If I could I would grab it. 

It’s like a sixth sense that keeps talking to me under its breath.

In the mornings I feel fresh and new, an hour later I feel used and abused.

I realize that I’m shuffling through my life too much.

I am “going along” and that’s just not good enough.

I have visions of what I want, and with the vision comes no map.

I see pictures of what is to come.

I am walking closer to the pictures I see.

Some day it will become completely clear.

I am walking forward, I want to see.

More than to see, I want to be in that picture.

It is a puzzle.

I am its last piece.

 

~~~~~

 

The sugared sensation of success has brushed my lips.

I like the taste.

The bad memories are slowly being replaced.

I like the pace.

The things I see are abstracted filaments.

I like the chase.

 

~~~~~

 

Sometimes I wish that I could just turn it all off

Forget the let downs

Overcome the fear

Catapult past you

 

~~~~~

 

The above is the way I write.  I just open word and type type type.  Then normally 75% of what comes out gets nixed.  And then I do the same thing again the next day.  And then again the next.  And then….I nix and write and nix and by the end of the week I might have one thing I actually like, one thing someone else likes, and nothing anyone pays for.  And I’m starting to wonder what is the point. What would happen if I just stopped….  I mean I just wasted 5 minutes writing the above shit.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

10:37 a.m. ::
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