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fodder

the pebbles you've arranged,
in the sand they're strange.
they speak to me like constellations,
as we lie here.

archives

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    • Thursday, July 20, 2006

    Cloudy. Clouded

    If I were to have it my way, I wouldn't ask for "world peace" but for our world to be free of emotional shackles.

    It's always back to the same thing. I'm always running on Square 1. Heck, I don't even know if I can call it running because I just don't move on. Do I choose not to or have I been brainwashed to worship things which are always out of my league?

    There's simply no end to this.

    And no one has ever taught me a shit about "loving yourself" so Cloudy Clouded Woman's here to stay.

    16:52

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