i write sometimes. sometimes. to my self. mostly to others. it seems that the words that need to be let out need that only when there's something in the way. in the way of perfect cloud filled skies. sitting back with colours swirling around me whirling smiles from all directions. And yet it seems indispensable every so often that i need to come back to this little corner towards the other side of the scenic route.. to reboot or something or the other.. sink a little... to fully revel in the pleasure of swelling back to full mast. i enjoy now draping myself with a little touch of dark. not really real ofcourse. obscure sometimes. But there.
with reason. reason fucking unreasonable. how strange. strange. Just strange how. the world brings about such shifts and takes such turns. places you only to be replaced. deal with the real deal once in a while it was before. now it's the entire show. that's it. THIS is it.
its what its going to be like from now. onto the end of never. one after the other. "A series of unfortunate events" still to be seen. placed against the odds and told to make it through the pile of shit and come out clean on the other side. that was a phenomenal film. But no. he was the only man to have accomplished such a twisted task. that’s how the line goes anyway "the ONLY man i know who crawled through 500 yards of shit and came out clean on the other side".
What the fuck is the point. What?:
What!?! of any of this.. "LIFE, n : the whim of several billion cells to be you for a while"
urghhh.....what a place. what a script.
real. real life as it gets. realer each day. realer.. yea heh that’s not even a word..but you get the point. Fucking brilliant!