Ramblings, sounds like a good name. Just me ranting about how horrible my life is.
My cigarette smoke slowly drifts out into the air and out into the world. I am not sure why I am writing this. I guess all my lit teachers telling me I am a really good writer kind of helped and my fondness for writing. Maybe I will pick up some books on writing tom marrow but I don't know. I like writing and I like reading. What I really want to do is so confused right now. Like my head is just like a clothing rack at a thrift store. So many different clothes and so many different styles. And People keep egging me on to choose one. Kind of makes me angry havi
Am I as crazy as I sound?? by Sais-Solon, literature
Literature
Am I as crazy as I sound??
There's something about rain.
how it falls to the earth.
Something mysterious about rain.
how it can bring salvation or destruction.
Theres something about being in a coffee shop when it's raining.
how it feels warm and cozy as you stare out the window at the cold rain.
Something about the low growling of coffee machines.
Something in the smells of coffee beans and odd spices.
Something in the sincerity and love in a cup of coffee.
Something how it brings people of all Races, Styles, Jobs, and Status together.
for a cup of love, and sincerity.
A warming of the chest, a fondness of the heart.
There so contagious, for when you recie
eyes fogged out
But I can see just fine
Horizon still familiar
Yet I'm not on the path
memories creeping up
and I take care of them, like in the memories
Maybe I'm wrong
Maybe I should give this up
And embrace this peace
Settle down and go home
Leave all this behind
Maybe even start a family
Maybe just start over
nah, Wandering minds equal delusion
Like the machines we use by Sais-Solon, literature
Literature
Like the machines we use
Reaching out, touching, twisting.
The hand does all the motion. Mix, wet, dry, done.
As the steps reach the hallway, the mind pixilated and refocuses to a perfect image of reality as it is known.
Flood gates for the mind open to reveal an array of thoughts and ideas to sort. As they are slowly put together and graphed into the general the flood is sorted into small streams of ideas.
Returning to the place left from, normality is restored. And the machine carries on. All so automatic.
Our we so different? Our movements so automated in style, and thought processes so clean cut and formal. What makes a difference from electrical impulses go
Ok, I was half way deleting my gallery when I desided its completely easier to just move accounts. So I am leaving this account for dead. If you want to come check me out and my way of being and art then it is http://Switch-Wolf.Deviantart.com
I am going through a large amount of change right now and its spilling over to many areas. Excuse the time spent doing this.