I try to bring myself up
Heighten the frequency at which I scream But what comes around goes You can’t hear me
I am … so many things and emotions and faces right now. I’m … unsettled, pushed out of any comfort zone I thought I had (as everyone has been throughout this year). I can’t believe it’s October 1st. Was I even born in January? I don’t know anymore.
I feel like I should dive deeper
But I get stuck in the foam
Swirling hearts and bubbles
While the real world simmers below
This is the first thing I’ve written in weeks. I’m sorry I’m so very absent lately.
I want to write, so badly, but my brain is stuck in update.
I feel like I’m constantly processing and unable to ever get far enough to spew my learnings onto paper.
Every day there’s a new piece of information, a new outrage, a new something that leaves me staring at the screen and grimacing.
Why are we like this?
Perhaps its the effects of months long abnormality or a year that has proven, like most stressful times, when one thing goes it all falls apart.
This year has been the car with freshly erupted flames on the side of the interstate. The family, barely freed from its grip, looks on in horror as they wonder how they got there.
Because of that, the constant imploding of every moment this year has had to offer, I feel my creative well has run dry and I’m in desperate need of replenishing it.
Anyone else? I know I can’t be alone.
Is there a word
Which defines perfectly
How you push me
Moving me forward
On words scripted for the stars
Today’s stream of consciousness write, brought to you with background influence of Mogwai’s new album zerozerozero. Also, I made a little stick figure story for you.
I’m trying to connect
But the signal’s too spotty
Have you guys seen Westworld? I haven’t either but the soundtrack? Recommended.
Or as it’s really called, stream of consciousness Sunday. That’s just a lot to type and 100% honest, I spell consciousness wrong 100% of the time.
Your feelings are a beast of a person
But we know you don’t always want to feel
So we can just rip them out
The spine of everything human
Connected to every nervous tick
Can just be peeled right off
For your enjoyment
I’ve done everything to trigger what memories are left
Impressions on the soul with a smell and taste but no vision
It must be so hard to be good
While dropping your prayers Into a liars stew
I have a goal of doing a stream of consciousness write everyday to get myself back to the habit and writing every day.
I thought about writing
Full but empty
With shirts ripped and stained
And jeans frayed
But life got in the way
So I stuffed my feelings
To the back of the drawer
Just another shirt
Paint stained and bloodied
To be forgotten
But easily retrieved
In the depths of a dresser
Stuffed with regrets
Just like me