Durry clouds taint the morning sky. Hews of grey smear for miles like some slopy artist's masterpiece. Funny how the sky paints my mood, almost often to the T. I'm tired, twisted, and tainted like a human pretzel dried up under the red frying lights.
There isn't much behind these eyes of blue, hazzy like the sky they reflect. My mind is tetter tottering in a limbo of laziness. My feelings shot with a double dose of lidocaine, swollen, puffy and numb like a crooked smile.
Blank are my thoughts, as blank as a kindergarden kid's first note book.
blank. blank. blank.
Perhaps I shouldn't have tried to write, write absolute nothings. absolute garbage from absolute nothing.
Perhaps I should find a self meditating cure.
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I thought this was/is your self meditating cure...only released to those who care to read it.
ReplyDeleteExpressing your feelings is far from garbage...even the blah "nothing" ones are something...so lets call this "garbage" another treasure:)