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of rushed words and hushed thirsts
mellowman

the wave, the surge

Some call it love and some call it sex.
opposites.
Call it what you want, but with one touch and you’re gone, so call in sick.
Human politics, from whispered hushes and distant crushes.
Mental fits breakin’ pencil tips and
inkin’ brushes.
Simple rushes.
God makes man and this is the devil's finishing touches.
- Butterfly Effect -

alfresco

beat, rhythm
questions, answers

movements





brief traces

August 2010
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March 2011
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December 2024
January 2025

Friday, July 1, 2011

i need to start writing again. this has been going for far too long, far too much. i need to find within, innately push myself, in order for me to be who i really am, for me to pick up what has long been abandoned. a part of myself.

fingers, click those black buttons embossed with lifeless letters, build the bridges that once collapsed brick by brick, lego by lego, and whisper souls into their awaiting forms as you've always wanted to. this is your forte, make it your forte.

hands, furtive glances from Eyes wont help you to wield the pen into your companion. initiative from your senses are required, are of the essence, so those papers can be crumpled after endless hours of pouring your all into beautiful words, ugly words, fancy words. the grandiloquence elevated for the sake of not only imparting pretentious crap overloaded with vanity, but to save your arse from degrading your aptitude.

remember them with the utmost effort, drill them into your tiny little head, etch them so they wont be wandering, fragile and lost, and relinquish them when the time is right.

the time is now.

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♥ 2:51 AM