THERE IS NO OPEN DIARY...
...just sluggish tosses of another night's insomnia...
...still believe the sleepless nights are better for thought: the ability not to feel yourself allows for disorganization...a scattered sunset of blues upon oranges and apples, sea food, and skyscrapers...made for great conversation for my engaged girlfriend at work, for i didn't try to flirt...just let the words flow-free out of numb tongue...she met me on top of the tree..."her man" owns his own business, and i'm pretty sure he's purchased the property...
...rode the storm til midnight...felt the passionate glaze of the Beach Boys "Feel Flows" and "Slip on Through"...
...actually, IT WAS NOT "PASSIONATE"...i hate that word...it was more visuals...like a butterfly's wings appearing from the sky...the childhood hallucination i had at the age of five when codeine was still an ingredient to relieve the cough...
...just a diatribe of mixed up history...
...the clouds are all hung up...
...tired of holding onto the sky's mystery.
...just sluggish tosses of another night's insomnia...
...still believe the sleepless nights are better for thought: the ability not to feel yourself allows for disorganization...a scattered sunset of blues upon oranges and apples, sea food, and skyscrapers...made for great conversation for my engaged girlfriend at work, for i didn't try to flirt...just let the words flow-free out of numb tongue...she met me on top of the tree..."her man" owns his own business, and i'm pretty sure he's purchased the property...
...rode the storm til midnight...felt the passionate glaze of the Beach Boys "Feel Flows" and "Slip on Through"...
...actually, IT WAS NOT "PASSIONATE"...i hate that word...it was more visuals...like a butterfly's wings appearing from the sky...the childhood hallucination i had at the age of five when codeine was still an ingredient to relieve the cough...
...just a diatribe of mixed up history...
...the clouds are all hung up...
...tired of holding onto the sky's mystery.
