Spot; in the dark distance. Belief, following fact. Morsels of light blinkingly blessed in tried trundling crescents. Blanketed bastions of sanity, like sanity, only better. Like Sanity. once ago, remember. Once that time when I looked at you, you at me, and
'tween us did see
Yog Suwhatsisnaneme
and reality died,
So reality lived,
born on pained sight
we saw what was
no longer unreal
but to death with the flailing, put a rest on it, why don't yoo Scattere
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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