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Friday, 15 November 2013


The act of doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result............

I've never done the same thing over and over. Or have I and just don't remember?

Oh the spiral that is my head and my life and my world.
Repetition of my day which creates for me a dark and crowded sight.
While when release to freedom I see things in very different light.

A chance is all I ever did need to be explosive as can be, the random acts which befall myself are just that within the time of themselves.
I never know what I shall do I don't plan or act I just do, so from a moment of clarity to madness that no one else see's, I am not insane I have my sanity but my actions seem to strange to believe.

From building this to writing that to wondering why theres a cat! I never know what will come next or who will stand here to vex the most creative points of view with in the darkness that was you, or me you see I never did know which way I turned or where to go, watching the path as it unfurls showing rabbit holes and ways to turn.

This distraction I follow now is not an end but a start to light from where the end of the darkness does follow from its feet to head to touch to eyes to see, there is no where you will go, with out me I should not know but lost in time I am so much and yet I'm free to build and curse, and while this seems to make no sense in here a message to myself, or to you but not from me maybe there you can see that though this is just words in scribble the time to find the never ending middle within what was once so dark yet light shines through like a spark the candles that burn one day will end but then they shall ignite again and with this when you have no clue of what I say I say to you or me or them but who should know for your message is hidden in snow, as white and pure as time itself buried beneath a hidden shelf.

Or on a table in full view I never know when it was you, but I do know that this is me in words and pictures that non can see, for I still hide in shadows and night, wrapped in wings of angles flight and cowering under a hood that hides this mind from prying eyes.