December 1, 2013

the hands of reapers cradle ticking numbers

today i woke up screaming fuck the world.
a conceited soul + with venom on my tounge = yeah. that's me right now.
i guess i'm busting myself open again.
when i am this bottled up, and silent:
it IS the verge of pure refulgence being birthed.
creepy: how very aware of myself i am becoming these days.
even creepier: how creepy & weird, it turns out: i really am. :) 
(note to se/lf: that little smile felt good)
what to do? when the words just won't suffice. sigh.
one thing i am so grateful for in times like this: 
the fact that no one can rob me of my dreams. 
when i feel empty, drained, hollow, and so alone - 
my dreams fill me with hope, passion, blood, and emotion again. 
so for now, i'm going to lean. sing. and dream. 
this song + intense leaning = concrete evidence of my sizable dreams

© by the gypsies travels

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