It's quiet.

Nov 06, 2001 00:45

Alone again under the glare of the light that shines above my cluttered computer desk, the house is rather silent, under Mother Moon's darkened blanket and the crickets' lullabies, resisting the urge to fill in the gap with some familiar melodies. How long am I able to sit with my own thoughts? Grateful for the dogs barking downstairs, I turn off the light for the sake of my aching eyes and reluctantly slip on my glasses. Why don't I join my family and go to sleep? Well, that answer is simple: there's too much stuff on my bed that I'm not willing to move for, so I guess I'll stay right here and let my keyboard take the beating. There goes my poetic tone. It's too late at night for poetry, though. Even though some of my best works are created in the early hours of the morn. Yes, indefinitely. Hm. I think I'm going to make a Blog now.

"No, I don't go with fads at all..." Bah. But... whatever... I'm bored... need something to do... mmph. Here goes... nothing.
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