Song of the day: Silver Springs

It's a frustrating feeling; feeling stuck. I hate it. Absolutely loathe it.

And I'm the greatest procrastinator known to man. I keep avoiding this massive pile of papers to write.. So I read things I enjoy to keep my mood lifted and spirit high. And listen to things that touch me, because I believe in catharsis. And imagine not being able to get that purification!

I want to at least cry, dammit!

I guess I will be doing my fair share of that in two weeks though... Maybe my body is saving up..

"Oh little doll,
keep smiling.
Look at the monkey,
dancing,
just for you."

Song of the day: Charleston

High on endorphines after the clownshow (more commedia dell'arte, less circus) I came up with the silliest little rhymes. But I will share it with this empty space just to brake this record I'm holding.


I take the road less traveled by,
won't settle for some apple pie.
That's how I go by,
in life.


xoxoxo,
haz.

Word of the day: Clandestine

So I've finally gotten somewhere with my writing... Thank the heavens for pirates! Or er... seas.

But it feels like I'm trying to push oatmeal through a linen cloth... it's that slow.
And I'm not anywhere near pleased. The only line I'm pleased with doesn't really fit anywhere at the moment.. gah! But at least I'm writing again, I will hopefully get better.

An extract from my sleep depriving work:

"You carry a hundered pounds on your back,
still you leave a steady track.
A compere yells:
Welcome to the picture show,
those old faces never telling; friend or foe?

Can no longer feel your legs, yet you feel every ounce,
as you keep wondering through these towns.
A warm sunrise begging
please take it slow,
you wore out your shoes 60 pounds ago."

I'll probably rewrite this a hundred more times. When I finish it, I'll probably "simplify" it. The cleaner the better...

And scratching your itches really do make it worse...

Goodnight!

xoxoxo

untitled/vagabond

You carry a hundered pounds on your back,
still you leave a steady track.
A 300 degree smirk:
Welcome to the picture show!
Those old faces never telling; friend or foe?

Those legs got more numb by every ounce,
as you keep wondering through these towns.
A warm sunrise begging "please take it slow,
you wore out your shoes 60 pounds ago."

do you see the rainbow and the pot of gold?

a devil's looking for a soul to be sold.

...
"Dead men tell no tales"
...

Just dried your ears, (and eyes shouting never)
but you've already been walking this road forever.
Quoting someone else's ashes at crossroads,
ignoring the work of man under your soles.