more....
I wish sometimes that art took the same amount of time as making words. I am still in a wordsmithy, pithy mindset; it is a way to reset some of the metal upset and occupy the world inside.
I hear alarm clocks reminding the world to begin. I hear my music restarting the song I have on repeat. The beats kind of mix together and work... alarms and this song... maybe not but it sounds okay to me.
I remember the way cats slept in heaps around the rooms I stayed awake in (back when staying awake was the point and not an afterthought). Little fur lumps on my desk and the floor... I always felt bad staying awake when even cats were sleeping. The night is like that. It causes guilt where only creativity should live.
I am working on nothing.
I had a plan for this evening but it failed with a miserable-ness I would rather not explain. So I wait until the world wakes up, until the others are contactable. I know this plan is possible. I just can not seem to figure out the way to work it out alone.
That isn't the most uncommon problem I have had. I am not familiar with the ways of failure. Instead of failing, I run the fuck away... But lately I can't help but face the way things actually are.
"...though the world looks very different today..."
If you play the same song over and over, does it lose meaning?
"...it's just another day... and everything has been arranged... while there still is time and there is still a way... we're so far away... we walk about and dream away ... we're staring at the door with nothing more to say... "
listen to "different" on this page
I hear alarm clocks reminding the world to begin. I hear my music restarting the song I have on repeat. The beats kind of mix together and work... alarms and this song... maybe not but it sounds okay to me.
I remember the way cats slept in heaps around the rooms I stayed awake in (back when staying awake was the point and not an afterthought). Little fur lumps on my desk and the floor... I always felt bad staying awake when even cats were sleeping. The night is like that. It causes guilt where only creativity should live.
I am working on nothing.
I had a plan for this evening but it failed with a miserable-ness I would rather not explain. So I wait until the world wakes up, until the others are contactable. I know this plan is possible. I just can not seem to figure out the way to work it out alone.
That isn't the most uncommon problem I have had. I am not familiar with the ways of failure. Instead of failing, I run the fuck away... But lately I can't help but face the way things actually are.
"...though the world looks very different today..."
If you play the same song over and over, does it lose meaning?
"...it's just another day... and everything has been arranged... while there still is time and there is still a way... we're so far away... we walk about and dream away ... we're staring at the door with nothing more to say... "
listen to "different" on this page