The beginning of a strange time? It's possible that I may alter the whole schema, just turn it out onto the myriad paths that lay waiting. Or else I'll burn it all, realize that it was, in fact, nothing. Then I could start with nothing. But this time I would keep it nothing, never adding, just breathing.
Nothing has ever been greater than I'd imagined it.
Sober steps draw a path,
leaving fretting in their wake,
off to the familiar bastion of wrath,
his spiring thoughts for spiraling's sake.
Again the town is made,
'Tween hisself and the real,
When it did finally fade,
It ended as no big deal.
Open up the sorry drain,
And let it go, let it go.
There's no reason to hold on to anything as absurd as those things I see around me. In fact, there's nothing that would hint that it would be wrong to concentrate for the rest of time on watching it all break apart to reveal the facade it was. Little.
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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