I have galleries inside.
The images in my brain seem to be happy in there, they like the dank of the little corners they occupy. They never want to come out, sometimes I see them when I close my eyes. These things never properly articulate themselves from my head to my hand to paper.
It's what bothers me about whenever I draw/attempt to draw. The image is like a photograph in my head, every shadow is perfect, and it just gets...distorted...on it's way out.
I think I get funny like this when I sleep less, but I get disembodied when I sleep more. Stupid sleep. It not only wastes my time, it fucks with thought pattern. If I didn't have to sleep, in theory, I'd create more. I'd have more time to do the things that would make me not so discontent, like work on the house and write more (but if I wasn't discontent, what would I have to write about?), I might even get out more and meet more people. I'd get through that stack of books sitting on the shelf. I might even not have to drink as much, although I've been well behaved with that, but drinking mirrors the numb of sleep but lets me be awake while doing it.
I hate sleep, but waking up is my least favorite part of the day.
The things my body demand of me irritate me. It seems to work against me, shouldn't we be a cohesive unit?
she'd pry open his ribs, crawl inside the cavity, just to be closer to his heart.
The images in my brain seem to be happy in there, they like the dank of the little corners they occupy. They never want to come out, sometimes I see them when I close my eyes. These things never properly articulate themselves from my head to my hand to paper.
It's what bothers me about whenever I draw/attempt to draw. The image is like a photograph in my head, every shadow is perfect, and it just gets...distorted...on it's way out.
I think I get funny like this when I sleep less, but I get disembodied when I sleep more. Stupid sleep. It not only wastes my time, it fucks with thought pattern. If I didn't have to sleep, in theory, I'd create more. I'd have more time to do the things that would make me not so discontent, like work on the house and write more (but if I wasn't discontent, what would I have to write about?), I might even get out more and meet more people. I'd get through that stack of books sitting on the shelf. I might even not have to drink as much, although I've been well behaved with that, but drinking mirrors the numb of sleep but lets me be awake while doing it.
I hate sleep, but waking up is my least favorite part of the day.
The things my body demand of me irritate me. It seems to work against me, shouldn't we be a cohesive unit?
she'd pry open his ribs, crawl inside the cavity, just to be closer to his heart.
VIEW 25 of 101 COMMENTS
maurauder:
car tuneup in Oxnard at 1:30. 
voltaire:
sweetie, I know you're bad at calling. You told me so in person. I still love ya. I'm not bummed or anything. If anyone understands having a life, It is me. I know you still love me. give me a buzz when you can. but not till tomorrow when My phone gets turmed on. God damn sprint! or send email or whatever..... I hope my wife is having a most marvelous day. Meow, Meow... 