Ha! Fooled ya! Right on top of it, me boyo, me boyo. Though, it is mmmMonday, after all. It's a small World, have a duff. Hard to do this scripto thing, what's to be further said? Little.
Layer upon layer they stand,
Isle after aisle arranged between sand
And sea. A sight for the mystery,
A question for the ages, a dim history,
What lay beneath the tombs,
and for whom's unfortunate dooms,
were they cast there? Why,
there is no answer anymore. Try
to think back, and there's only,
a shaded memory, alone, not lonely,
and it gives forth no clues.
A more tragic thing to lose,
Is unthinkable, something above
this wonder we suffer. Love
a force, and it will take
such things, and leave you in the
Wake.
Up.
On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
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