i believe it was once defined as a free write.
strange thing is i don't feel free. i have an empty tumbler. the anniversary crystal that no one uses anymore. like a dead almond tree. lost my flavor. and i'm falling out windows and into passing cars. oh won't you take me with you? 'cause i can't stand being useless anymore. wherever you want to go it's fine with me. leave me in the desert. i'll find my way to a sea and fall to my knees with the salt water pouring into my mouth. take me with you or leave me be. watch me like a tide turning over the sand soaked splendor. and oh yes. these are the glory days. yes i've been told. but at times i'm feeling more like being buried under this bright green grass. pushing up the crepe paper blossoms of an insipid weary heart. promise you'll say something nice. and tell your curious eyed children to place their faith. at least the sun is still up. still rising. till this morning i didn't even know what it looked like. never being up this early. i believe it was once defined 'free write'. strange thing is i don't feel free. ashamed that behind these teeth is where You will find me Jesus. roaming this fireside. this arson's garden. my hope has found it's thief. but You would speak. 'rest. shut your curious eyes to this sleeping soil. dig. and you will find life.'
'time can kill the greatest of men. even the strongest find themselves on the floor. it doesn’t have to be this way..fragile time can lead you to the grave or fragile time can start eternity. it kills their walk. i watch them wash away.' -norma jean . 'pretty soon, i don't know when, but something is going to happen