...

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.