writing – ….—

I hate to think that you’ve summoned me just to find there’s nothing there

but over talks of all our worries we can find a common care

that summers gone and winters here

and for this, we should be warm

i remember going to the doctor on the parabola of a mental breakdown, searching some cure in application… i was left with nothing but the solid affirmation that this is just life. leaving i knew what would help yet i still didn’t seek it out

some strange pressure of hidden points and stress had me caged in and formed myself to a new type of functioning

it was clear this place was killing me and i was letting it

i love to see that this is when seasons start to change

and if we die before we wake who cares to know a name

all this is the travel to, a place

where we should be warm

i battled the locale and eventually left in some haze of hope that had a sick familiarity to it. From old new to old new with echoed experience. Just thinking that some signals are crossed and knowing it are very different, one preys on hope and the other begs resolution. i left a few markers behind, hopefully

The music was left with a phantom….just hearing it took me back to the drug fueled nights.we stayed up for a long time..it was ghastly. i’m not sure how i managed it but i suppose strength isn’t all about weights. a mandala of youth, free spirited actions and celebrations of ourselves. we made a ven diagram of our energies and mashed about the overlap

the colors amber glow, white bright, the shaking sun. carpet brown, walled white, chalky orange, neon blue

i discovered the bards infamy through these nights and i lost anchors as well. like i was driving some shell of myself and navigating highs…pushing myself through currents, drop in, reside, creep out

make sure to drink good fluids, have a salad, teleporting cigarettes, shrinking liquor, anywhere beer, where are we going

Its an eclipse of sorts that time, a lot of dark and a lot of bright and in the half time of a thought, i remembered nostalgia is spelled and felt differently than progression

Tag: writing

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