Your love won't keep you clean.
I agonize over crooked rugs and dusty furnishings and to this day it's done me no good. Sometimes I slip into this trance-like state when someone's talking to me and all I can think is, "The spacing between those candles is all off," or something to that effect and by the time I realize I've stopped paying any attention to whomever I'm speaking to, they've since walked away.
Lately I've been infatuated with the idea of "expressing myself," but honestly I have nothing to say. At least nothing of any importance or magnitude or even cleverness. This has led to other expressive outlets - one such being a tree much taller than myself made of bottle caps ticky-tackied to my living room wall. I've also begun to garden, or more appropriately suck the life from every living thing within twenty or so feet of me. Whatever works, I guess.
Lately I've been infatuated with the idea of "expressing myself," but honestly I have nothing to say. At least nothing of any importance or magnitude or even cleverness. This has led to other expressive outlets - one such being a tree much taller than myself made of bottle caps ticky-tackied to my living room wall. I've also begun to garden, or more appropriately suck the life from every living thing within twenty or so feet of me. Whatever works, I guess.