dragonbuttocks
American bullshit. I hate time. Time counting. Time
keeping. Wasting time? How can you waste time? It's not an object.
Life is life. Ignore the clock.
How can you tell if love exists? How does it make itself known? You can't drip it into a teaspoon. Measure it--see how much it fills, know it exists, know this person feels this odd, intangible emotion. There is no proof. You just have to cross your fingers and hope.
Water glistening, sparkling, like a floor of gems. Impossibly bright and clear. Colors unimaginable. Life unimaginable. To dive in, to submerge, to become part of such a place--a dream.
Imagination run dry. What to think? What to feel? What are new thoughts, ideas, inspirations? What isn't cliche? What is there left to come up with, when everything has been taken? Creativity is running on empty. This is the drought of the new.