December 10, 2012 - 10:31
This is how I feel. And it feels good for a minute.
Flotsam in the whirlpool. You can choose to cling to it, but it only leads, well you know where. But be prepared for the where.
And I mean this in exclusive application to my ideas, or the ideas I feel I can have.
Lately whiffing at a muse, a muse made of bark, being sucked into a drain.
I want what's left of it before it sogs in the sewer.
Dear Diary do you understand me yet.