The page laughing at me the canvas cold and blank. Winter filled room in the middle of june. Why had my heart run a ground on such jagged shores.
Now I scavage for remains of my soul. ragged I wonder would anyone remember me apon my return. Would she stand smile apon face and regret in heart.
The page stayed empty for a reason. They were all gone the great titles along with there writers.
Me the fool brave or foolish enough to attempt the impossible with little to show for it. A broken relationship and some bad tattoos in some weird places.
To be stuck down in a hollow . Is fine with suplies low and the truth a sober mind brings time was ticking the false deadline was apon me. And like a kid trying to cram in every answer on a school test. I was stuggling waitting for the teacher to say times up.
Hands shaking from the need throat dry and a headache that would last for a week. Why had it always come to this isolation.
Maybe it was the roads way of calling me back. Like a lover calling me back to bed. To entangle untill the mornings light.
Yet just like a passionet affair the struggle for the title kept me trapped to this place for nights on end. You cant grasp what is never yours its like trying to see that sweet southern breeze.
Everytime you find one with which your heart agree's You find the titles taken. life and love will always bring you to your knees.
This is taken from what will be my first book once through many long gin soaked nights is finally at it's final stages and thank God cause it's been hell. as of now the title will be The Road Begins ? Hell my friends if you can think of a better title to describe my writting feel free to let me know Always your slightly crazy friend John Patrick Robbins