Thoughts of Messing with Letters

Feel like expressing or even messing ‘round a bit with letters & turning them into words.
Perhaps persuading, or expressing, however it always ends up in some void,
Which its reality it can be seem as a plea for simple affection?
However one should never ask straight up for it, if so you end up as one more bait.

Feel like messing with time instead of it getting to me.
Feel like sticking it to the man who changed the coarse of my life’s direction.
Feel like stumbling into outsiders, the bunch of misfits, were I could walk and sit amongst all and with no spoken word we could all know its fine. That some souls yearn to belong yet they can't get their head around the meaning of fitting in.

…Wish to step out sometimes…
Give my body a rest, rest which never fails at reminding me specially when the spine feels like snapping right at the middle. It does not matter how many bones show up against my skin…my spine swears a three-hundred pounded gut is always being carried.
Which brings me to my next wish of having the ability of being
politically & grammatically correct
just so writing wouldn’t feel like a chore, even better would it all be if
grammar rules & bullshits did not exist.
Anyway, what am I trying to point out definitely does not contain an answer, for my brain is only sending signals to my hand to how & where to move, simply that, the only action in motion.

So of course,
Thanks for hanging by.

No comments:

Post a Comment