Bluish Daily Routine. Epilepsy is Dancing.

Yea, family poem I guess.


Indian Giver.

'Cause he's got to look out for what over his horizon.
He's gotta make sure he's not lonely, not broke.
It's enough to worry about keeping his own head above. ~ The Streets

Twenty-four streets away
The water beats down and
Mists float up to coat it all.
Soft and strong--
Dim light from a cracked door
And creaky hardwood floor.
It was kept close to his tiny,
Laying on Old Hickory.

Rewards for good heavior then--
Now, for making it this far.

His eyes were closed
And her eyes had intent
When she asked for it.

Capable sin--
What does a child know
Of logic or Aristotle?
She's the provider

Who decides what is
Right or wrong, and
He listens. Reluctance
Isn't, for her, something
He feels.

Making it this far,
Rewards for reasoning.

Love like brothers--
Back and forth
With a grain of salt.

The Water doesn't stop falling
Twenty-four streets down,
But the mist always rises up.
It's enough to worry about
Keeping his own head above.

~tim

Yea... How about a picture?


So... I think I'm going to start quizzing myself on words from the dictionary... like make a little notebook and just learn words I don't know--Self-actualize kind of thing. And I need to consider revising some of these. This one can have decent changes at points... can be stronger, and I need to be more of a writer and see the changes that it needs.

Anyways. I bought purple pants and i'm excited.
love.