Comfort When after a day's opening bodies' logic forms a pattern Which one of us is madder? Can we train thoughts to scatter? Comfort, comfort Here's the air--oh very stale Man drained of life--without a knife Wood-dyed floor--yet money means more But pasta and peppermint make me insane. Roundabouts but not with drive What's the point of being alive? I often creep around my mind I've found I'm just like your kind But like forests I eat air Food tastes good but looks so bare Do I dare to rarely care for tortoise or hares? I'll try to post some more I've written. I admit, they're not exactly proper or sensical to most people, but it's my writing and my art.
art shouldn't be easy, it won't be the first thing that pops into your mind. thats what its about. take your potential and focusing your efforts. creating. Unless its another movie about creative geniuses spouting shit all