>>> Otherhood <<<
* That last note was the LAST note, everything now is stories. i hope you'll enjoy upon reading and if not, i'm relatively sure you'll go on.*
The morning was never quite bright, but this day it was bold and the beating of the sun was not yet a bother.
The soul seemed the solution and all salvation, a suggestion that spiraled into the practical preoccupations that consume everyday and today.
There was no day, just time juxtaposed with all the yesterdays before it to make the excuses to ignore today's unrest and to chase tomorrow. Sorrow and joy were all just shared expressions believed against the creeping succession of the day upon the yesterdays it chased.
True love was the theme and the unending dream that made occasional little plays and threw overwhelming haze over eyes otherwise too open to claim contentment, complacency or conceit.
Some intervals were awash with filtering through the slosh of the cultural conspiracies all too ironic to be anything but idiomatic.
Static electricity lit all civility along with its natural indemnity.
The morning was never quite bright, but this day it was bold and the beating of the sun was not yet a bother.
The soul seemed the solution and all salvation, a suggestion that spiraled into the practical preoccupations that consume everyday and today.
There was no day, just time juxtaposed with all the yesterdays before it to make the excuses to ignore today's unrest and to chase tomorrow. Sorrow and joy were all just shared expressions believed against the creeping succession of the day upon the yesterdays it chased.
True love was the theme and the unending dream that made occasional little plays and threw overwhelming haze over eyes otherwise too open to claim contentment, complacency or conceit.
Some intervals were awash with filtering through the slosh of the cultural conspiracies all too ironic to be anything but idiomatic.
Static electricity lit all civility along with its natural indemnity.