I feel like writing something 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.
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?
All I know is,
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?