heart’s heavy with vaccuum thoughts flying from song to song to yearning to loss to pressures to tears the place has become too cold though I hear someone talk in sleep drawing a blank for tomorrow no funnies no emoting no nothing feeling alone stuck in a limbo so much to do with them robots boys are working hard just not enough poor things he’s traveling missing a warmth oops forgot to pack the curds in and dishwasher too energy’s all time low lethargic heck even let down I should go sleep afraid of demons never mind sleep it is.
ps: Closed comments on this as obviously this is not being read as it ought to be. I also understand that once something’s out there, there isn’t any way the thoughts or interpretations can be controlled or channeled. Art, if I dare categorize my scribbles under that, is funny that way. It takes on a form for each reader. Especially abstract pieces. What I attempted was free style thinking writing, or that’s how I named it at least. It isn’t perfect. These are thoughts that come in succession into your mind without you organizing them or calling on them consciously. I’ve done this a few times before and it is an interesting exercise one should attempt to see where your mind wanders without direction.
It’s challenging in fact and not easy at all. Our minds are that ingrained into life’s little tracks and ways, that even when we do want it to roam freely, it gets bound by and within itself.
Now in retrospect, I should perhaps open comments again just to see if anyone has an input on this. Especially now that I have explained that the 100 words really weren’t written under the influence, or while half asleep, but on purpose.
Fun shall start again tomorrow. :)