..
........we're in the trough.
I think the Internet is an obsessive-compulsive activity. GLAZE. Deer. Headlights. I mean, isn't there five or six websites you call the cycle? Glance, nod, check, dismiss. It's like a book you are reading, and the chapters change, only the lesson is the same.
I'm rambling. I am disappointed with my ability to diversify my surf. I'm stuck. Got a cool site? Hook me up, yo.
I mean, I once in a while throw in a random, discover something new, get into it, then bail..............yes, not only is that the description of my love life, but my entire life. All is conserved.
Ok, since I am posting with extreme cathartic bias, here is an old poem I wrote on a lonely, lonely day. Warning: This is so high school.
A whole needs splitting
Chaotic rhythms need mending
It isn't the end or beginning
just an elastic stretching
---> Rhyming looses my meaning
Think of a pattern.
Is it static?
Does it need attention?
Are the edges crisp,
Or woven in linen
If it moves, does it vary?
Appearing straight
In line
With no derivation?
Is there a stop-start-finish?
Perhaps a faux-granite
Slung over a chipboard mattress.
Should it be omni-present?
Existing without from
But deadly in its limits.
Could it tackle?
Kill the lesser seen
Disable, silence, crumble, and wean?
Should I wrap it
Heart-felt and sewn?
Mail it on the fourth
Do I own it, give it, feel it, or learn it?
Could it feed me, do I pay it?
Will it loose its focus,
Only to regain it?
Appearing weak
With marks that dictate impatience?
Wavering lines that allude to consternation?
Looks that suggest movement
Subtle but invasive-
It sure does look pretty.
I am an addict to its function
Spun-out as a result.
MOVE. COME ON.
