The funniest thing about my life (according to me, at least) would be how I always feel like I'm idle despite all the things that happen around me. I don't know if it's just me thinking that there's a lot happening, and 'around' actually implies things I'm part of, that I'm connected to, and anyway: I don't know if there's really a lot of activity about me or if the whole world is inactive along with me, but my point is that I happen to feel hopelessly, strangely inactive all the time. And I'm not dragging my inner self into this, I'm just talking about what's apparent, what's obvious. What the eye can perceive, and what often happens to escape mine.
There was a death. I'm waiting for the right mind to write about that, and that's a separate, self intriguing episode, and I don't want to merge that with something totally unconnected. Plus I think he deserves more respect than just be mentioned (which is why I don't want to drop a word about that in this post). Anyway, that subject is actually one contrary to this, sort of like an antonymous coexistence, a natural oxymoron, you know, like how something impacts you to the core, and how something just grazes past and there's actually not even a need for regrowth, there wasn't anything lost in that process and so you're still intact. But this impacting thing, well... It's like I'm being digested and churned and 'unsettled' and I don't want this to end, though. I'm just looking for the end-product, for feelings like these, they always end up being constructive (Unless you have cancer, in which case you know what happens, and I exclude 'emo's and goths out of this list because I don't think they'd get a life even if they die, so I guess you get my point).
I feel desperate to write a piece of lyric. In despair, actually and I've thought of a wild, wide variety of names from 'Sunday' (redirected from 'Sundae' as in 'Ice cream sundaes') to 'Cater some love' and 'Lydia' (again!) and well... No I actually just thought of 'Sunday' and the rest are lies. But I did think of some lines, which deserve a place in this 'Book of Rhymes' blog because they tend to tell you how I start to work on a thought, and I actually happen to give you the raw thought. And here it is.
I'm exceeding my limits. I don't know if I'm entitled to have said so much, because I'm not a person who often talks of works of fiction: It can't get anything more real than what I am now, and... I still haven't gotten over that 'feeling' that I haven't got an adjective to define with. It's been a long while, in fact it's longer than just long and the gap's not just mental it's physical actually: Devastatingly physical with mountains in the way. I don't mind trekking, if only I'd be taken in on the other side, and only that it's been too long and it's not like it was any thick before either. But the thing is, I'm reminded of things I hadn't bothered to think about so long, something I'd blame on my dearth of hope, but all of a sudden it's a blast and there's pieces all over, of characteristic smiles, loose fitting house T-Shirts, distinct skinniness, eyebrows that look the same or actually a 'face' that looks the same, not to mention the way lips align and heck I'm saying too much!
I need to stop.
There was a death. I'm waiting for the right mind to write about that, and that's a separate, self intriguing episode, and I don't want to merge that with something totally unconnected. Plus I think he deserves more respect than just be mentioned (which is why I don't want to drop a word about that in this post). Anyway, that subject is actually one contrary to this, sort of like an antonymous coexistence, a natural oxymoron, you know, like how something impacts you to the core, and how something just grazes past and there's actually not even a need for regrowth, there wasn't anything lost in that process and so you're still intact. But this impacting thing, well... It's like I'm being digested and churned and 'unsettled' and I don't want this to end, though. I'm just looking for the end-product, for feelings like these, they always end up being constructive (Unless you have cancer, in which case you know what happens, and I exclude 'emo's and goths out of this list because I don't think they'd get a life even if they die, so I guess you get my point).
I feel desperate to write a piece of lyric. In despair, actually and I've thought of a wild, wide variety of names from 'Sunday' (redirected from 'Sundae' as in 'Ice cream sundaes') to 'Cater some love' and 'Lydia' (again!) and well... No I actually just thought of 'Sunday' and the rest are lies. But I did think of some lines, which deserve a place in this 'Book of Rhymes' blog because they tend to tell you how I start to work on a thought, and I actually happen to give you the raw thought. And here it is.
"It's an understatement, to say I'm retrospecting,
'cause I've demented myself, to a seven year rewind;
I've sort of got her on my mind..."
'cause I've demented myself, to a seven year rewind;
I've sort of got her on my mind..."
I'm exceeding my limits. I don't know if I'm entitled to have said so much, because I'm not a person who often talks of works of fiction: It can't get anything more real than what I am now, and... I still haven't gotten over that 'feeling' that I haven't got an adjective to define with. It's been a long while, in fact it's longer than just long and the gap's not just mental it's physical actually: Devastatingly physical with mountains in the way. I don't mind trekking, if only I'd be taken in on the other side, and only that it's been too long and it's not like it was any thick before either. But the thing is, I'm reminded of things I hadn't bothered to think about so long, something I'd blame on my dearth of hope, but all of a sudden it's a blast and there's pieces all over, of characteristic smiles, loose fitting house T-Shirts, distinct skinniness, eyebrows that look the same or actually a 'face' that looks the same, not to mention the way lips align and heck I'm saying too much!
I need to stop.
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