I don't want to read anymore, I want to write. I want to write about women being old fashionably modern and not knowing what they really want. The words flow from my mind to the pen and finally scribed on the paper, but the words have no thought.
My mind won't allow me to engage in drivel, in a useless on going battle of the sexes, when there is some much beauty around me. It is such a beautiful day, everything calm and peaceful. I've combed the deepest recesses of my mind in search of a day similar to this, but I find none.
I have been sitting here for hours alone, the freshness of the ocean air filling my lungs, the breeze dancing on my skin, my mind clear, free of torment and rancour, silent; and I am not lonely. I have been here in solitary un-confinement, enjoying me. The sun is beginning to set now and the thought of leaving this place is distant in my mind.
Sledgehammer in hand I swing, I can see the cracks; it's only a matter of time before I break through.
No comments:
Post a Comment