Get paper, a writing stick, and a timer and set it for 7-10 minutes. During that time just write. Do not remove the pen from the paper. Post what comes of it.
Pages and pages in a corner rotting gracefully like a rose left unnurtured after spring. In a daze I glance at the sunlight reflecting off rooftops and streets being illuminanated by this yellow refreshing glow. Why does the mind question when the heart knows all? Why can we never believe our heart in it's most furious moment? Furious with anger, joy, inspiration, love, creativity; hate. Sometimes it's this stale bread we leave in our cupboard that refuses to move and free us without the threat of crumbling, leaving us alone and unnourished. You know the bread is stale and will never nourish you like it could have if you hadn't saved it for later, but now it seems like a shame to throw away something that was always there for you. Cracks in the wall lengthen and become more visible over time. Where a doorknob slams into a wall there is left an indent that is usually hidden to the neglegent door goers but aparent to anyone who takes a look inside. With no lights but the dim blue glow from electricity and melted sand the cracks can grow unnoticed.
[This message has been edited by James Freethy (edited May 12, 2006).]
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