Blank canvas – why is it always such a fucking daunting task! I envy the courage or lack thereof of making a mark. A fear of failure perhaps or a fear of being exposed to some nobody who I don’t really gives a shit about.
An intangible, changeable held idea, that remains fixed to base life’s multitude of significant decisions, until new information enters for processing forming newly held ideas that aid personal expansion.
The silhouette of a thin asian man emerged through the fog at the station. His eyes frowned like a happy sigh, no joy emanated from him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you” he shivered. “Was that the last train you jumped off?”
A stale, unnatural icky occasion.
There’s nothing meaningful anyone
can really say or do.
Funerals should be held in silence,
Except for cries, sniffles
Or the ocassional nose blow.
I like watching the hugs, hand holding
and a sincere back rub.