December 2010
10 posts
How sweet to be a cloud, Floating in the blue.
It is sad. The steaming pot of things, and chicken - sad. The chicken or the steam, it doesn’t matter. It is as sad as she who graced an otherwise disgraceful everything. But she, too, is guilty. I condemn both my greed, and the chicken - alike. But I excuse my hunger since it could no longer distinguish between food and fate. A confusion that deems it to infidelity - a starving population...
9 tags
1 tag
18 tags
2 tags
daytime labor pt1
_
_
2 tags
Lab.for.one
So a thought came to me, like all thoughts do. It introduces itself, I prosecute, I execute or dismiss, or wish to execute, wish to dismiss. It happens, I owe it progress or mere justification of stillness - it doesn’t matter. Thought doses my conscious and entertains me when lacking music, alcohol or - sense.
This thought told me to give a name to the thing I’m doing now - whatever...
