This is a rough of what I just wrote....I finally felt inspired to write- Take away what you will.
I am washed feeling the pain of this loneliness, seeking comfort that I shall not find in the those who enter to console…I wish for a vanquish of emotion in my life, for objects of desire with no stake. I long for a love that shall not be tempted into being removed and I have a heart for those who hurt -yet I remain –untouched, as an oxymoron of thoughts.
I have a block of nothing - I cannot write well to express my individuality and my muse has become my distant past so I cannot create within a new cure…I want to feel nothing as you wrap your arms up and play interested in things you shan’t…I pray to exhale the smell of request, of your mere attendance displaying an empty bow without an audience.
With each exhale I leave nothing to imagination but fruitlessness and anger, so I place a label on the boredom that I have come acquainted with to replace…it offers me no solace which sucks!...
As a new begins, I realize that I am in sheer desperation as I need an outlet to my frustration…I have a cloak of being that is deserted and efforts have placed themselves in an attempt to remain dark.
At this point I know not what I scribble because insomnia has taken over and now I have no pill to wash closed eyes among the needy…I had an almost wish for my muse to take part of my quiet anger to bring flesh smelled colors to life...yet I realize great pain comes with knowing that truths beginning.
I grow bored of this attempt to create a line on a page that continues and aspire for a cloud of smoke to come and leave its fog upon me bringing misplaced judgement.
Now I sit in the heart that has become my temperature impending the realization that I have found a clue to my prose that was considered lost…Ending a note that made no sense to end...allowed the gaze of this game you play that I have no time for, therefore I continue with my life’s pleasures.
I wish for a wash of emotion that can take me from this place where no destructive behaviors lie to torment the reality of which I am.
Can it just wash over me to take away all that I need, leaving only fragments for my education as I wish not a recurrence of the simple ideas brought forth from childhood. A cavity of anger washes over me to understand of what I will be given, something higher than I had imagined…How I wish for a wash- an emptiness that fills all voids to enclose happiness without a nuisance of longing, only a wash on clean fabrics-fresh and exhilarating… O how I wish for a wash.
Now I close my taste at a halt and let it wash over
No comments:
Post a Comment