(no subject)
the days are becoming too long, the nights too short. my sleep is interrupted too often. my waking hours fade too much. my days have become routine. i wake each morning at dawn. my eyes close late into the night. i find myself searching the skys; always the skys. i look at the stars at night, the sun in the morning. i know there are no answers there, for i have no questions. my flowers bloom less. my art is getting darker. the cd in my walkman is always enya-like celtic songs. i dont wear my red chucks. ever. y i dont wear my red chucks anymore? im beginning to allow myself to flow into this routine.