Thursday, September 17, 2009

And If You Have A Minute Why Don't We Go Talk About It Somewhere Only We Know

I feel like writing something really angry.
REALLY angry.
But I have no words.
Just a few lines that put together don't make sense.

So instead I take it out on yellow lined paper.
Drawing things.
Anything to not be angry.
Anything to release this tension in my wrists.
In my legs.
In my arms.
In my head.

And all I have is some sort out inter galactic adventure.
Made of absolute randomness.
A spaceman, a star maker, a storm maker, and the sandman.
Reflection of my inners?
Maybe not.

All I know is,
I'm angry.
And stuck.
Very stuck.
And the only way to get unstuck is to move.
But I feel like it'll just bring me back here.
Granted, you can't know until you try.
But is there even a point if the conviction is this strong?



No comments:

Post a Comment