Par Volume

Make space don't intrude don't confuse me I'm distracted. Okay, spaced.

I feel like I'm getting lousier at this. Is this the consequence of not being here after a while? I really don't know it's barely been 3 weeks. Okay it's been 2 who am I kidding I'm feeling the rust already. Thank goodness I came prepared.

Wet spots on the screen isn't a good thing. It means I need to aim better. It's not what you think, but who I am to prevent some stirring of controversy?

This is messed up, I really have nothing on me right now. Me mind's racing but it's full of empty trains whizzing in my; There's no content.

Let me leave you with a figment of my thoughts while I go through with my own way of relaxation and enjoyment.

"Volume"

I look like a homeless man tonight. With no home, no place to live in, except my head. With no aim, no purpose in my direction. I'll be blown, journey dependant by the nights wind. Like wisps of the smoke I exhale I drift, endlessly till I vanish. That's the view of many, I'm just a visual image their minds simply don't pay attention to. That's tonight, the night I'm homeless. A worthless image drawn by alphabets.

And amidst this insanity we still stand, still. Stand strong, I stand firm. But I know, I'm part of, this insanity is, part me. We all live with it, I choose right moments to exhibit this. It's a form of art, which only a selected few can appreciate. In it's raw form it's naturalistic, when defined it's raw and unprepared.

It's part in us, of who we all are. That this insanity will reek around us, draw itself towards us and feed on us. The thoughts, words like drawn images, it's instinctive. It's instinct that drove us here, and insanity is part of this instinct. It's insanity that drove me here, that it'll draw you here. Only drawn by words, the same lines on walls.
Insanity; You act like it's catching.

I didn't live to have experienced world war, but I'm alive while the world's at war.