this is not a leave., it is typically strange a day- the tickers run slow, unbeknownst to the restless clock threshold meeting below the sea's altitude;distortion not distorted no matter life's constancy wears/piglets and the tit they still bear and the difference. i still hold i remember years the thoughts hold i saw progression know it or not the first half of my excavation taught, the myriad to write
(apologies for potential negative interpretations, it wasn't intended)
a thanks to the regulars here- past, present. i generally give more credit to the past (may not be remembered idk) for helping me learn how to write well, or more than i could two-three years back.
(that being said, presently the experimentation with more 'abstract' formatting and use of image poems is particularly engaging/inspiring even though i rarely write now.)
this may be really bad (inebriated freewriting hooray) but i figured a regular thread wouldn't cover it
tl;dr this shit is probably bad but THANK YOU
Last edited by Dregen at Sep 19, 2014,