What the fuck? This was the word yesterday. I am too tired to think of anything worth writing or thinking or sharing. Should I be using ‘nor’. I just can’t stop thinking about how this is crap and every since my shock therapy, my writing has turned to shit. Barren. My creativity is barren.
A barren soup. Nothing but broth. A little disappointing, actually, since she had been so excited to try something new. What could be new in broth? Sneakily, she stuck a finger in her bowl and licked it off.
Barren, when age steals all that you hope for, all your dreams, all those things that need Future to exist, it takes them all. In replacement it rips from you your body’s functionality, bit by bit, like irradiated organic matter it decays and falls away. Still the hopes and dreams remain, despite the cackling laughter of the unstoppable murderer of lives and time. I take a large axe and I chop the evil monster called Age into tiny pieces, yet still time doesn’t stop, and I realize that Hope and Dreams are the lies we live with that allow us to remain in the delusion that happiness is possible someday, until reality strips them bare and shows them for the insubstantial barren land that they really are.
Solar Flare
She wept. Of course she wept. That is so- Stop. Just stop. You critizize everything I write and I am done with it. If of course she weeps from being barren, then shut the fuck up and let me write.
What the fuck? This was the word yesterday. I am too tired to think of anything worth writing or thinking or sharing. Should I be using ‘nor’. I just can’t stop thinking about how this is crap and every since my shock therapy, my writing has turned to shit. Barren. My creativity is barren.
A barren soup. Nothing but broth. A little disappointing, actually, since she had been so excited to try something new. What could be new in broth? Sneakily, she stuck a finger in her bowl and licked it off.
c
Barren, when age steals all that you hope for, all your dreams, all those things that need Future to exist, it takes them all. In replacement it rips from you your body’s functionality, bit by bit, like irradiated organic matter it decays and falls away. Still the hopes and dreams remain, despite the cackling laughter of the unstoppable murderer of lives and time. I take a large axe and I chop the evil monster called Age into tiny pieces, yet still time doesn’t stop, and I realize that Hope and Dreams are the lies we live with that allow us to remain in the delusion that happiness is possible someday, until reality strips them bare and shows them for the insubstantial barren land that they really are.
She wept. Of course she wept. That is so- Stop. Just stop. You critizize everything I write and I am done with it. If of course she weeps from being barren, then shut the fuck up and let me write.