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
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,