scarcity of time for myself and my brain freaks me out. to not have a grasp of my psyche makes my spirit weak. it makes me a zombie, giving substandard philosophies and judgement calls. it also gives me the excuse to be slack. but who am i fooling? nobody knows it but me. what they see is the zombiesque gown, and to explain every reason, layer after layer, fabric by fabric, would just be a senseless waste of time. there would be none left for me, and the cycle begins. each turn transforming me into what they see is a colorful work of art, but made of threads out of steel.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
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