I wrote previously about the electronic implications on the written word
But the smoothness of this pen upon paper has made me neutral on the subject
It's insanely intoxicating when your words flow onto the paper just as they do from your mind
Uninterrupted
But, death has a way of bringing you back to reality
A birthday, In which the birth boy has passed
Twenty four red balloons, caressed gently by the wind as they are carried beautifully skyward.
Red of passion
Red of love
Because twenty four is infinite
Also is the love and the friends you left behind
But we love you,
I love you
And we will forever follow you
Upon these rising currents
Like those twenty four red balloons.