But you've taken my seat....

There is one thing that makes me cringe most than many others. And that is the feeling that arrives into his eyes when he is about to make that discovery. The feeling that dawdles itself into a hurry and get hold of his breath. There is such a difference in the insights that it all seems to be a blur of thoughts, some of them too fractured to make out anything from them.

The orange colour in its full glory has the ability to press a smile on my lips. It can bring out its long textur-ous finger and place its tips on my blue lips. I can beat the dust out of the rug but then all that it does finally is settle back in, the cloud of grains drafting themselves again into position.

Am I trying too hard to be ashamed? The heart atop a pyramid being hammered into a paste the thick fluid of blood bleeding out from the hands of the doer. Is that what it is?

intoxication isn't a state of the mind. It's the willingness of the heart. Its the power to see things in their statelessness, without grief overpowering you. My unpadded feet can feel the sand, and the toes play around trying to hold the sand between them. Often going to the beach is a self imposed breach of freedom. You must feel the feeling of loss in order to correct yourself no?

The house with the granite, green in shades, the green around unsuitably crafted out, the cane in the chair and the air filled with the joy of apprehension. The grasping of the situation, it's grief laden intent to make them wait in order to bring out the bursts of sheer innocent happiness...

Do you often think in black and white? Or would that be in colour? If in colour, what may I ask dominates the frame? Please tell me it's orange! I beg of you! Even a white or a yellow I can take. But nothing more.


I can sit stand eat breathe glare smile weep dance on my toes tickle the soul out of you tell you the story of the rabbit who ate a turnip and the princess who wears the bow at her nape even today.
Its all around you in spells. Need I say more?