Jan 2015
I keep on writing and writing,
In a space before trying to make sense of the words. And then reread to explore which are my subconscious keywords.
On and on and on it goes,
spilling wondrous colours from within the doors of my inside walls.
Never-ending storylines and mystery, what is truelly deep within,
and under the surface lingering.
Trying to better understand me.
Exploring depths beneath my breath
It should be normal to for us to sit and contemplate death.
Our minds are too active to be a bore, theres just so much you could explore. The marvelous thoughts it stumbles upon and creates to entertain, theres so many things you cannot properly comprehend.
Sometimes we write something in a fleeting instant. This one only manifested in just this moment. Othertimes we sit and wonder why theres no flow, perhaps thats for another poem to explore.
In a space before trying to make sense of the words. And then reread to explore which are my subconscious keywords.
On and on and on it goes,
spilling wondrous colours from within the doors of my inside walls.
Never-ending storylines and mystery, what is truelly deep within,
and under the surface lingering.
Trying to better understand me.
Exploring depths beneath my breath
It should be normal to for us to sit and contemplate death.
Our minds are too active to be a bore, theres just so much you could explore. The marvelous thoughts it stumbles upon and creates to entertain, theres so many things you cannot properly comprehend.
Sometimes we write something in a fleeting instant. This one only manifested in just this moment. Othertimes we sit and wonder why theres no flow, perhaps thats for another poem to explore.
