My blog this week is a jumble of words collectively known as Sometimes, an attempt to write down what goes on in my head at
times.
Sometimes
Sometimes it feels like you've got all day; others like you're just about to die and you know that every last second is more precious than liquid gold, and that you cannot wast a drop of that pure, sweet water.
Sometimes you can look in the mirror and hear the sparkling optimism of the child you were and ignore the shambling wreck you've become; all grubby colours and stains that penetrate decaying shirts to settle on your soul: the badges of guilt and failure.
Sometimes all you can hear is a long screaming silence, as if all the gaps between your atoms had unfolded, stretching you across space, running you away towards the edge of time and back to the beginning, where you sparkle and fluoresce and transcend and break
free of the dirt, erupting into an existence beyond life.
times.
Sometimes
Sometimes it feels like you've got all day; others like you're just about to die and you know that every last second is more precious than liquid gold, and that you cannot wast a drop of that pure, sweet water.
Sometimes you can look in the mirror and hear the sparkling optimism of the child you were and ignore the shambling wreck you've become; all grubby colours and stains that penetrate decaying shirts to settle on your soul: the badges of guilt and failure.
Sometimes all you can hear is a long screaming silence, as if all the gaps between your atoms had unfolded, stretching you across space, running you away towards the edge of time and back to the beginning, where you sparkle and fluoresce and transcend and break
free of the dirt, erupting into an existence beyond life.
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