scenic routes. road soda. flashbulb memories.
drench the past in sad serenity, categorically
embatter common sense until the context left
kills our concept of what it meant to wax rhetorically.
let transcendtalism be your guide,
the ash upon your breath captured the autumn's sense,
the dysthymia you workshopped out of your prose,
before learned to bravado and glow
like the coughing vibrato of pollen in throat
__________________
Quote:
Originally Posted by PancakeBrah
I'm going to start off on a tangent.
when I write, lately, I feel as if I begin by stringing together ambient ideas and concepts, then i realize I'm just typing the words coffee, tawdry, and autumn over and over and over, again, then I pass out dru-
|
|