Back to the desk

There are some things that will eat you up inside if you do not let them out. This is how I feel about writing in general.

I have been taking, inhaling, absorbing the air about me for too long, I am afraid. And it certainly is high time I should detox myself by leaving these words on the screen.

Definitely tired of the nihilistic paths to be taken by those who feel much. I have cried, laughed, brooded and sulked. I have bled but its traces are not to be found by those who keep searching and probing me on the outside. Savoured wine... the blessing kept millenially to help us usher in the dance of Dionisius, the bacchan urge to soar above the obvious vulgar usual words that fill up the weary mind, poor mind traveller. Oceans of drooling, seas of dull, please do not let me drown. Once I step out there is no turning back and I hope that by falling I will rise again.

blessed old apollo bring me light grand charioteer.

as the dawn approaches i will be made new to shine throughout the starving night again and it will flow freely foams shower me to my core. shake me back to life dizzyingly storm to explode and expand me to the shape I need to the frame I cherish mold, mold.