I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through
Friday, March 21, 2008
Confusion Junction, What's your whatever it is
Not sure if this is related to the big "D," but I just dont' feel like I can write a coherent sentence. I know that I am. It just feels like I'm trying to communicate through layers of muffling. I'm in the process of writing two other posts, and I just don't think I'm being clear. Then I get the feeling like I'm writing like a poor imitation of Hemingway. "He came to the water. The water was there."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment