Writing a story about friendship, hearts that never broke and words twice spoken. Endless mind ramble stitched together with ink and twine. The tremble of water droplets as a memory shakes you to the core. She was snacking on a pretzel, he was stacking crumpets to the tick of a pocket-watch and I'll be the one munching on the kettle corn while spelling off arithmetic problems to the cricket I caught last summer. Little silver eye darling brought back from the corners of my mind, have a glass of water on the house. Maybe the white plastered walls will distract you from the shadows. Isn't it interesting how the evening fades and the balloons drift off into the clouds? I wonder how the words are spelt in ancient lands of gumdrops and summer lit banquets. Am I celtic to you? A collection of thoughts trails off like this, sometimes a catalog of quotes from my day to day life, others a echo of my memories.
Locked away in plain sight where I know they're safe from prying eyes. I can slip away with a slight whisk of the spoon over baked alsaka. Flamethrowers are useful when the elk wander over broken glass. How did you expect the world to be written, is it a matter of meaning, purpose or importance? I think it's just the need to get the words out in the manner they were thought. Does one need to strive to perfect someone else's life with words of wisdom beyond one's own? Coherent sentences have no place in this realm of mine.
I shout out my thoughts and mind, pure and simple. Do I need an ulterior motive other than to voice the ramble in my head?
Clapping on the beach patio I brought back for this song. On a camping trip over the water. Just keep me awake, won't you?
The words have gone silent now, satisfied to have found a place. Did I scare them off? I'm sorry, come back to me. No?
