(no subject)
So, it's definitely an in between sort of day. One of the unexplainable ones. I probably just spelled that wrong. Either you noticed or not, but no one really cares.
The radio is blasting a song that I am really not agreeing with, so I think I'll go kill it now.....*bashes the old stereo then gets reemed out for it*......*takes a breath a puts on a cd*......Ok. I feel better now.
If it could only take me away,
like that day with the freak torNA(H)do....
What a grand day, t'was that one.
Yes indeed.....
Fabulous song going, missing the old days, but everything's cool, it's under control.
Don't stand in the corner, rush to meet us, embrace the old ways, it's all good.
"No."
Quiet refusal, it's exceptable, but the betrayel of trust was too much.
At least we tried to help, we tried to to tell, but would listening be happening that cold night?
"No."
Again and again, but would it be taken?
"Don't talk, avoid contact, leave for good." So they said, but here's what could happen if let go....
Misses, feels terrible, comes back, is let in because always standing here will they be. Most of them.
Or/ Feels out, being pushed, strays farther into, lost forever.
"No." My answer. Won't let it go, can't let it die, can see what's to happen and become, sensing sameness, familiarity.
Not after the last time, this goes beyond the pale.
On a lovely day, any day, could put away the world and bend it to will.
Greatness, senses.
It's being stowed away and lost, but nothing is ever really lost. It just get's harder and harder to find. And understand to the same person.
Swept up, can remember what it was like back in the good times, but delving into the past does for naught, si? Steping in any direction isn't always grand either, but....who know's?
Guitar chords bringing up the pushing it what is it?
There is something here, in me or around, I don't know. It's waiting to come out, but I don't know how right now.
It will come through, at least I think (feel,) in my writing, art, music, song, something....
ARggg.
I don't know how to let it flow.
It's almost like I feel something exploding inside my chest, but completely different?
Like big physical technique won't work, but....almost as though it should flow.
Calm down, center, feel it, touch it, examine it, can't let it go, even though wanting to....it's....
Sorry, most of you probably don't get this...or maybe you do (or you just think you do, but it's really whatever you just ate,) I wouldn't know....
Dear readers,
And she lifted her head to the sky, and the beauty of the northern sky connected with the warmth and cold, her jacket versus ? The fir trees off the edge, was the world round or could she sail and dive.
Evening colors, blending, losing, sickening....and it brought her fierce joy quick turned towards sorrow quick lost to nothingness, like all the rest. Modern tech the sorrow, nature? the bridge? she can't explain, but lost to her were the words...she didn't need them. exspressions did all the talking for her, the lift of her eyebrows, the touch of her skin, the warmth of his hand, boldness pulsing through the blood. Giddy? I think not. Clear lakes connected to what? Oh, the bliss of that evening, together to the stars. It didn't last. He went back. Because he was all her own, no one else could see him, especially her mother. "Who were you talking to, sweetie?" The 6-year-old turned and said, "No one mommy." She smiled a secret smile to herself and looked back at the stars.
Sincerely,
the 'author' of this 'story.'
P.S. It wasn't any sort of God, let's just clarify that now. We think it may have been Uncle Ned from two treehouses down.
The radio is blasting a song that I am really not agreeing with, so I think I'll go kill it now.....*bashes the old stereo then gets reemed out for it*......*takes a breath a puts on a cd*......Ok. I feel better now.
If it could only take me away,
like that day with the freak torNA(H)do....
What a grand day, t'was that one.
Yes indeed.....
Fabulous song going, missing the old days, but everything's cool, it's under control.
Don't stand in the corner, rush to meet us, embrace the old ways, it's all good.
"No."
Quiet refusal, it's exceptable, but the betrayel of trust was too much.
At least we tried to help, we tried to to tell, but would listening be happening that cold night?
"No."
Again and again, but would it be taken?
"Don't talk, avoid contact, leave for good." So they said, but here's what could happen if let go....
Misses, feels terrible, comes back, is let in because always standing here will they be. Most of them.
Or/ Feels out, being pushed, strays farther into, lost forever.
"No." My answer. Won't let it go, can't let it die, can see what's to happen and become, sensing sameness, familiarity.
Not after the last time, this goes beyond the pale.
On a lovely day, any day, could put away the world and bend it to will.
Greatness, senses.
It's being stowed away and lost, but nothing is ever really lost. It just get's harder and harder to find. And understand to the same person.
Swept up, can remember what it was like back in the good times, but delving into the past does for naught, si? Steping in any direction isn't always grand either, but....who know's?
Guitar chords bringing up the pushing it what is it?
There is something here, in me or around, I don't know. It's waiting to come out, but I don't know how right now.
It will come through, at least I think (feel,) in my writing, art, music, song, something....
ARggg.
I don't know how to let it flow.
It's almost like I feel something exploding inside my chest, but completely different?
Like big physical technique won't work, but....almost as though it should flow.
Calm down, center, feel it, touch it, examine it, can't let it go, even though wanting to....it's....
Sorry, most of you probably don't get this...or maybe you do (or you just think you do, but it's really whatever you just ate,) I wouldn't know....
Dear readers,
And she lifted her head to the sky, and the beauty of the northern sky connected with the warmth and cold, her jacket versus ? The fir trees off the edge, was the world round or could she sail and dive.
Evening colors, blending, losing, sickening....and it brought her fierce joy quick turned towards sorrow quick lost to nothingness, like all the rest. Modern tech the sorrow, nature? the bridge? she can't explain, but lost to her were the words...she didn't need them. exspressions did all the talking for her, the lift of her eyebrows, the touch of her skin, the warmth of his hand, boldness pulsing through the blood. Giddy? I think not. Clear lakes connected to what? Oh, the bliss of that evening, together to the stars. It didn't last. He went back. Because he was all her own, no one else could see him, especially her mother. "Who were you talking to, sweetie?" The 6-year-old turned and said, "No one mommy." She smiled a secret smile to herself and looked back at the stars.
Sincerely,
the 'author' of this 'story.'
P.S. It wasn't any sort of God, let's just clarify that now. We think it may have been Uncle Ned from two treehouses down.