Sometimes noise is all there is

Three things made tonight

A delicious melding of abstracts and circumstance lead me to pick up a shoddy plastic paint brush and get messy with some shoddy plastic paints as the last night of the weekend drew in to its finale.

Three things made it happen.

Firstly- the soundtrack.



Not for all i do warn.

Secondly - Time is a Bitch and Girls will die as women. Alternatively summarised as Daymn Francis Bean is Hawtt

*Hedi Slimane (of course)

Thirdly was the access to the paints i suppose... but none the less resultant in the first splatter of non-ink i have perpetrated recently.

My aversion to non-ink or lead has been washed away in shoddy water. Maybe it's the challenge of inappropriate materials and layering technique that ignited me this evening, but when a certain speckle of orange tinged the lips just so i almost yelled out as when the breakdown crashes from this ridiculous band.

Remember joy. It's there, just waiting to be noticed in the most fundamental of things.

BeatHeart

My mind would latch on to someone like you

Strong Gentle Sweet & True

My hearts a-dither. What to do.

When my mind's in love

With someone

Like

You

umm...

I wish there was something so simple as an off switch

To stop me still and calm

to make my decisions 

and put me back

together again

My soul did run, flee me.

I don't know where it is

I do know that i hate this.

But have not the strength to pull

together my missing parts.

Stand and turn to face my inside

do battle against my fear of myself

I hate people looking at me.

I hate my voice, my physick

my greedy selfish desire and

my hesitant quiet facade

Who am i and why did i do those things

My secret is strangling me everyday.

A serpent would be biblical

but not so dramatic am i

or less do i believe.

Always for someone else.

Always aping something else.

Struggling to carry my worldly wares

yet fallen and scrambling to

obtain yet more

                      that i cannot carry.

I love only with wincing eyes

De Montaigne asks for a silence in self.

Your aim shall be to live with yourself,

that inner sanctum where your own company soothes you.

You speak and will be heard.

You listen and pay attention.

Home.

Yourself.

Cherished.

Loved.

Nurture yourself lest you depend on life.

That entire outside world of artifact.

Stagnent

I have to catch up with my self. In retrospect there are words and there are ink splashes on paper to be shared and cataloged. For posterity or for peace of mind. Either or the upload button needs to be pressed and pressed again. An image once captured will be freed unto this tempestuous terrible freeworld. No rules, no saving what is mine once the data is released. Stealing sharing is a way of life in this place. But is do i have enough to share. This page this digital page is mine and for my own. Don't steal from me i pray.

Dawn and Decay