(no subject)
i can't think. i could - i was.
i wanted to write. i sat with a sketchpad in front of me and was blank. craving a notebook. feeling riddles of sentences racing around the confines of my mind. timing fates. blinking words across the page. but nothing from the tip of the pencil. so i settle. for the digital notebook. and now i am searching the blackness with a match threatening to blow out by a breeze seeming to signify the emptiness of being left.
poop.
i wanted to write. i sat with a sketchpad in front of me and was blank. craving a notebook. feeling riddles of sentences racing around the confines of my mind. timing fates. blinking words across the page. but nothing from the tip of the pencil. so i settle. for the digital notebook. and now i am searching the blackness with a match threatening to blow out by a breeze seeming to signify the emptiness of being left.
poop.