In the mess of this awakening I can hear a touch. Faint, if that, but nevertheless. Smoldering, on the verge of an urethral existence, we press onward. A galactic scope this is. In the silence we must wait. On a bench, with our feet hanging; Arms resting against the back of the seat. I could've sat there for her. Instead, I left hand in hand with my thoughts. It makes for a simple task to break our own measures. Accomplish our own deeds. To send away a kid to college without any intrigue. You've raised him to be everything that you are. Everything you were. Its passed down like stones rolling off a sheer cliff. Until at the bottom it rests, moss growing, accompanied by weeds. These are all synonyms of the unconscious. Spawned from every root, then thrown from every pore. It internalizes nothing. Sing bird, it is your natural thing, if you have a pulse, then let it ring.
Last edited by streetcarp19 at Jul 31, 2009,
what I got out of this was the searching for a reason to life, is this what it's about? This was quite beautiful, the words and images just flow smoothly from the tongue. The rhyme at the end concludes the piece nicely. that's all I can think of to say right now, I apologize for the brief crit.
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian
thanks for the crit man, much appreciated....well, i think over all what i was feeling when i was writing it was looking back on a old memory and seeing how it affected me then, and knowing what i know now, kind of smile and shake my head. but nonetheless, there is possibly a lot you can get out of this. thanks again.
I think I would have preferred the piece to begin more focused and then move on to the grand scheme, however I know that it goes against what you wanted to do. It was just hard to get into like this, and in such a short piece, I wanted to be there with you from beginning to end.

I missed reading you. And talking. If you still have msn/AIM, send me a message with it.

This is not a pipe
yeah, it was certianly spur of the moment, but that is kind of the way i have been wanting to write lately. kind of weird, but oh well. that me i guess.