(no subject)
Washed up on shore...
Washed up on shore...
I’d like to live beneath the dirt
A tiny space to move and breathe is all that I would ever need
I want to live beneath the dirt
Where I’d be free from push and shove like all those swarming up above
Beneath your heals I’ll spend my time
Shout your name into the wind
I’ll wiggle in the earth and dew
Shout your name into the wind
And somtimes I will think of you
Shout your name into the wind
And if you ever think of me
Kneel down and kiss the earth
And show me what this thought is worth
I’ll never hear your voice again
In a kind of artsy, thoughtful, mood this...morning. 6:00 AM to be exact. I am in one of those moods where you wonder if you are really doing anything important, whether you could do more, and whether you could learn what to do to make it better. This is especially important with those of us who fancy ourselves writers...afraid that our work is the same recycled shit done over and over in a slightly different but unnecessary or pretentious or self-absorbed way. And is there a way to make it better? Blah Blah. I am rambling, yet again.
Running down the old tired road,
A bag of rocks on my back,
I call memories.
HeHe.
Rambling is fun. You should try it. And put it out there for all of us to see. get really artsy and thoughtful and post all the crap that seems deep and important at the time. I find it...how would Dennis put it....cathartic. Or at least fun. At 6 in the morning. When I want sleep. And need bed. But keep typing.
But seriously.
Washed up on shore...
I’d like to live beneath the dirt
A tiny space to move and breathe is all that I would ever need
I want to live beneath the dirt
Where I’d be free from push and shove like all those swarming up above
Beneath your heals I’ll spend my time
Shout your name into the wind
I’ll wiggle in the earth and dew
Shout your name into the wind
And somtimes I will think of you
Shout your name into the wind
And if you ever think of me
Kneel down and kiss the earth
And show me what this thought is worth
I’ll never hear your voice again
In a kind of artsy, thoughtful, mood this...morning. 6:00 AM to be exact. I am in one of those moods where you wonder if you are really doing anything important, whether you could do more, and whether you could learn what to do to make it better. This is especially important with those of us who fancy ourselves writers...afraid that our work is the same recycled shit done over and over in a slightly different but unnecessary or pretentious or self-absorbed way. And is there a way to make it better? Blah Blah. I am rambling, yet again.
Running down the old tired road,
A bag of rocks on my back,
I call memories.
HeHe.
Rambling is fun. You should try it. And put it out there for all of us to see. get really artsy and thoughtful and post all the crap that seems deep and important at the time. I find it...how would Dennis put it....cathartic. Or at least fun. At 6 in the morning. When I want sleep. And need bed. But keep typing.
But seriously.