tabularassa
Clean slate.
My attempt at working has failed for the evening. Instead I sit, completely wrapped in a world where the words we type are read by so many. Should this bring about a feeling of appreciation, or a feeling of total nudity.
I expose myself to the willing eye. My insides bleed around my fingers for those who care to feel the warmth.
I suppose there is no easy way to ever bear your heart and mind. I suppose we censor ourselves incessantly for one eye or another. Possibly more than one, naturally. But where do we draw the line between appropriate and rude. Where do we find the justification in ourselves to feel free enough to say one thing, but so trapped to not say another.
Our minds are powerful things, our hearts play their little games... but in the end our words stand strong, and though their structure never changes, their context continuously shifts.
A bientot.
My attempt at working has failed for the evening. Instead I sit, completely wrapped in a world where the words we type are read by so many. Should this bring about a feeling of appreciation, or a feeling of total nudity.
I expose myself to the willing eye. My insides bleed around my fingers for those who care to feel the warmth.
I suppose there is no easy way to ever bear your heart and mind. I suppose we censor ourselves incessantly for one eye or another. Possibly more than one, naturally. But where do we draw the line between appropriate and rude. Where do we find the justification in ourselves to feel free enough to say one thing, but so trapped to not say another.
Our minds are powerful things, our hearts play their little games... but in the end our words stand strong, and though their structure never changes, their context continuously shifts.
A bientot.