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From Rett Butler to Rhiana With Love - Wednesday's word: KILL [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Creative & Free

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From Rett Butler to Rhiana With Love [Mar. 1st, 2006|01:35 am]
Creative & Free


Biggotry written on the walls and storms blowing in from the west by way of the easterlies. Crazy but true.
Nonsensical but it could happen. The winds blow horridly up and down this town and show the walls just what strength they have; holding back all that is necessary to keep conformity in its place. This place, in my place, making no haste, and wasting all the time I have left. Sitting.
Contemplating. Meandering thoughts whisper through lips and settle on the outskirts of ears which have everything better to do than listen. They've a lot more going for them than most can dream. Little ears, perked up by the hindsite instilled within, grasp every meaningless drop of empathy which pours from the lips of unkempt lovers' quarrels and listlessly steal away from the presence of quietude. What a lovely meaning of life, that solitude, which brings a man to his knees and pressures him into becoming something more. Something more than a glimpse of the windy and symphatic road behind. Something more than a time slot, a time card punched in and out, to make him feel... alive.

It is truly amazing how I find myself needing to get to bed, needing to rest my heavy-thoughted head on the cushioned pillow and allow my eyes to stare at the blackness known as sleep.
No dreams will come hither this eve. No wrestless thoughts shall grace the doorstep of present lost in the depth of beddy-bye. It is only the future, or the past, which we want to hear from the "truths" told by a reader of palms, but it is now, so dull yet so sharp, which comes on so quickly; that if we're not careful we could lose it all in a scintillating flash.
What's so truly amazing is how the body and mind are connected yet so different, yet so apart, yet so conflicted, it's a work of art, really, how keenly the Sandman's dust puts pressure on the body and eyelids- -

- -lust for the comfort of sheets enrapturing an easily corruptible body. Yet my mind, that silly little thing- - er- -that relentless beast of a dreamer- -always wanting to be in the right and in the know even though all the facts of the matter display signs of "No." Go to bed... let me be... just let me see what it's like for once to wed the bed for eight hours' time. Nothing more, nothing less eight hours' time. Ate our time...


[User Picture]From: burn_so_bright
2006-03-02 11:36 pm (UTC)

Re: Food For Thought

i'd absolutely love that.
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