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I ******** hate "writers block".
Its like i have all these ideas in my head,
But to come out. Something has to bash them in to existence.
Like Fooly Cooly when a guitar pops out of his head..
Like come on! Why cant my mind get off "Pms avoiding school mode",
and get into my "kick a** beast mode"?
I'd do anything to be in that mode constantly.
Like why cant i piece together something decent?
The red thorns fall handsomely on the meadow bank.
The amber sky above sets the contrast to the shallow water below.
The mighty sea air aroma is lifted high above the currents to my
nostrils conflicting them with a spiteful salt taste.
******** it I'm back!!
 A t e l i c E n i g m a · Thu Aug 13, 2009 @ 03:15am · 0 Comments |
