(no subject)
My mind works in mysterious ways on me. I was just in the shower, lathering away, and I'm struck with this idea for a poem. I was in the shower for a good long while, and I kept throwing around the metaphors and the ideas in my head, until I got out, found the nearest pen and paper, and got to writing. I just find it humorous that as I washed myself clean my mind cleansed itself too of lingering ideas.
Now I think I should go to sleep before I become too existential.
Now I think I should go to sleep before I become too existential.