resolution.

i'll be more of me.

it was easy to just go on about how this particular she should be herself more and how she should not try to hide herself because she could get hurt. may be i do the same, only in the eyes of people like the particular she do not see it that way-- may be my kind of seclusion is different.

i mean what with the censorship for not hurting other people's ..

for one thing, i am certain that my words are my priority. they should have been from the start-- or at least i should acknowledged this vociferously without feeling "eh" about it. i hate the accusatory sound of "eh" at times. if my words do not go across then what do[es]? the essence of something/someone that/whom people may know?

i despise conceited fucked up people. i wish them no good-- but to get a taste of their medicine. something that i have discovered is that this kind of people only survive and are honored in their own clan.

here i shall like to use the word 'pathetic' (with all the polysemic meanings).
-esha.

.

...

to someone important,
how many times do you have to realise.
haha this is relatively funny.



your someone.

freewrite.

i can hear you ring.. and outside the window there's a haunted house- roof from where a man and his sister were thrown off by forces-unknown. horrible. truly, i can't mock tragedy. but i don't know about the unknown. i can't explain how you meant the "quoted" paradigm. i am just not awake yet to understand shit from crap. i need tea, i know that. but crows won't feed me their share of thrash. are you lost? keep writing. keep reading. keep listening. keep typing.

so this is it...

i have to write
!

i finished "fuck it" now it's up to matt to decide whether or not he wants to publish my work. i mean... whatever, i don't think it's worth reading.

i will have to critique my friend's work... eppp.. the night is very old...

love's colour.

i want to write again... before i start the "studies".

"a poor life this if full of care" so true.

i want to post carlos's poem there before i drift. i encountered the piece while surfing through AP today...
A Love Song by William Carlos Williams.


I lie here thinking of you:—


The stain of love
is upon the world.
Yellow, yellow, yellow
it eats into the leaves,
smears with saffron
the horned branches that lean
heavily
against a smooth purple sky.
There is no light
only a honey-thick stain
that drips from leaf to leaf
and limb to limb
spoiling the colors
of the whole world—


you far off there, under
the wine-red selvage of the west.

i don't know how wine tastes like... i have seen it from a distance... well, i had to inhale the stench... i say 'stench' because it was stench to me. that simple. but the 'wine-red' is a beautiful colour- so rich and so enchanting.

old english.

i want to go deep into the "language" i am still learning. the history is not as boring as i thought. it is tempting me. i wish we had opportunities like some who had it easy since birth.. hmph... there's always a way. i'll find one.