The arguing erupts an artist's harboring calm. A mom a fond lawn knew once as a yawn to call on. Easy pickings, a blissful mission. Ambition in the ambient stored soul. A written man venting is mortal self. The quest yonders down the dirty clothes. Garments grasps stains from the gardens grass. Gain will clean it..
A florist focuses on her floor full of her own flourishing florescence. Formulating a force to form a formidable opponent. Few dispute the beautiful bonnet or the fuel that gives food to bare the fruit of her fair labor. A barrier between a barely able and blare witch fable. We create where we direct ourselves to accept. We favor what we project, never forget. Where we come from, its what we come to wear at our best. Day of depth.
In order for society to win i need to vent. In order to be in solitude i have to let others know where my mind is going. Unfocused as always but still going. Never wanting to stop to smell the goodness in someones worst. Piles of shit is a standard that can be lowered to see my own shit. Im guessing. Reassuring myself without a plan. Im okay i think. Or im not, i think. Im away, i think. Ill stay, i think. But whats the honest truth is that whether or not i like it, Ill pay for whatever ive done. Whether or not ived done anything at all is for my mind to think. Not aloud. Never allowed to sound it out in speech. My mind plays tricks in order for me to sleep. But i trust it from a noble source. To put me on the right course of action, not the same passions ive had before. Just remoi
Starting, and fininshing then starting again. never erasing entirely, never letting go of what keeps me tamed. All for what? What is there to really show at the end of the day. Satisfaction in myself is somewhere else entirely imbedded in my own ego i see noone else. Its me who stops me from being complete. But the circles never envelop a new step its always a rush to end nothing worth starting again. Its my mind that i seek. Its the time to build that i reach. Its more reading and more writing. More letting my moral standards rise and fail. Then find a waste inline with another ones mind. I am not lonely with all the circles. Im only solemly in the air. Wishing that i could start to care about myself the way the world is treating me with grace. Am i a disgrace?