Friday, July 14, 2006

Writing and Humpty was an Egg --RandomThoughtsSeven

So I printed out what I have written of my story so far. I don't know why I did I like looking at print and it was also printed in my workplace so it's free - main thing.

I decided to stay home and work on my writing. Stayed home, yes, but ended up watching a Korean film, which was really good. I like Asian films. Violence has a purpose unlike the Hollywood blockbuster type films.

It's only one in the morning I still have time to write, even though I started cleaning up my room. I normally keep it tidy, but I have been getting lazy.

Lazy me I know, sometimes I do nothing but think about doing something. Listen to the sound of nothing it sounds good at times but it gets boring.

If I pretend to be someone then I am not pretending I am being someone. I can smile, I can say hello, I can be polite and say, "How do you do?" with an upper-class British accent.

And now my nose is getting all full of up. My main light is on as well as my desk lamp, so is the light in my bathroom on. I just turned the light off in the kitchen.

I can't swim; being able to doggie paddle doesn't count as swimming. Woof, woof! Look at me treading water!

Laws are made to govern. The system squashes me down like an insect and fragments me. Governments are designed to clone you into zombies. Buy one get one free! Become mindless, sacrifice your head to a one world government. Dictatorships are everywhere on the land and in the sea.

Napoleon was a little man, Humpty was an egg, and I am unsure who I am.

I want to keep on writing, I want to dance to this funky music I hear inside my head. Da-da la-de-da! I like this beat, especially the drums. Boom! Boom! I like sound. I like hearing what it can do and how it makes me react.

I am mindlessly writing. Just because I can and it makes me happy to write. It tells me I am alive and the world is growing with me. Youth is ageing, the time to burn bridges is over. Everyday I am getting older, my index finger gets closer to the grave, my body gets another wrinkle.

What time is it Mr. Wolf? It's suppertime! Run away!

Call me crazy, random words and memories build something, they build me make me who I am. They explain more than one cares to think. I show you me, this is me, this is the real me. No lies, though who doesn't lie? No false hopes, only bullet holes through my chest and lungs, a gaping hole in my head, a leg bitten dead. This is me I am not pretty, I am full of eaten parts, a leg of me, a roast bit of bone and tender meat. I have no halo, though I would love one for my wall.

I can talk to you and tell you it will be alright I wish I could be right there with you and say, "Hello, I missed you!"

Sometimes graves have more to say than me. Moths share their bodies with your clothes, why can't you let me live inside you?

Heaven is no invalid, hearts never die. Memories are in the eye, though relationships suicide and in the dawn you see no reply. Memories must stay alive.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I like it! Good job. Go on.
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Anonymous said...

Keep up the good work. thnx!
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