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Nov. 20th, 2003
Moods, yeah.
Let them flow like watercolours in a paint it by numbers game of life.
They're all waiting for the chocolate at the end of the line, that little buzz from artificial endorphins and additives that we can depend on.
But they're not for sale in your mind, you get what the history has given you, and the future mixes with it in swirls in your paint pot.
Dry the brush, lick the tip and ponder on the next piece you're going to draw.
Sketch an outline or just go with the flow, the picture will make itself - with or without you, you can try and change the colours but you only have the inks you bought to work with.
Yellow, green, red and black; shades all over the place.
The silence is you waiting to press play on the cosmic walkman.
The darkness is you waiting for someone to switch on the light in your mind.
Taste something new and everything can click like the final piece of jigsaw pushed into place.
You can't always get what you want, but you can get something you never expected, or something you had already but just realise that you're okay.
Lemons can stop you sneezing. People can tickle your nose, make you laugh. I never saw the maze until the walls fell over when I pushed them. This space is reserved for future expansion. Edge of the mind is just waiting, falling falling away like the stars when the sun blots them out with light on a new morning. Golden fire filling the sky burning away the darkness.
Try to unrecognise everyone you know, just once. Look at them anew and they will surprise you once more, or you will understand them in ways you didn't know before. Plants can nibble back at the ants that walk on them. Where I am is in no way indicative or what I am doing or anything else. May cause drowsiness. Deleted. Refiled. Crosschecked. Cross posted. Crossed out, resorted, reminded, remained, divided, conquered, clichéd and kicked.
Not under my roof.
Ooo shivers.
Let them flow like watercolours in a paint it by numbers game of life.
They're all waiting for the chocolate at the end of the line, that little buzz from artificial endorphins and additives that we can depend on.
But they're not for sale in your mind, you get what the history has given you, and the future mixes with it in swirls in your paint pot.
Dry the brush, lick the tip and ponder on the next piece you're going to draw.
Sketch an outline or just go with the flow, the picture will make itself - with or without you, you can try and change the colours but you only have the inks you bought to work with.
Yellow, green, red and black; shades all over the place.
The silence is you waiting to press play on the cosmic walkman.
The darkness is you waiting for someone to switch on the light in your mind.
Taste something new and everything can click like the final piece of jigsaw pushed into place.
You can't always get what you want, but you can get something you never expected, or something you had already but just realise that you're okay.
Lemons can stop you sneezing. People can tickle your nose, make you laugh. I never saw the maze until the walls fell over when I pushed them. This space is reserved for future expansion. Edge of the mind is just waiting, falling falling away like the stars when the sun blots them out with light on a new morning. Golden fire filling the sky burning away the darkness.
Try to unrecognise everyone you know, just once. Look at them anew and they will surprise you once more, or you will understand them in ways you didn't know before. Plants can nibble back at the ants that walk on them. Where I am is in no way indicative or what I am doing or anything else. May cause drowsiness. Deleted. Refiled. Crosschecked. Cross posted. Crossed out, resorted, reminded, remained, divided, conquered, clichéd and kicked.
Not under my roof.
Ooo shivers.
