Where does it all end? The same things over and over again as if it was played out to be an exact copy. People find comformance and tolerance in such a routine schedule. Yet for me it is only increasing my anxiety. I don’t know entirely what is happening with me. It is not the
How much time are you actually spending doing what you love? I’ve come to one of those moments as a writer and blogger where I look back and see all that I have done. I remember when I initially started this blog and this has been quite a ride. Now reaching my 3 year mark
The name of the game is that there isn’t one. We casually look into various methods of developing these gameplans that stretch out for years. We follow blindly or with the “perfect” rules established to accomplish our goals. But the sad truth is that there isn’t any rules specifically that has been made by others
Cover me in swirls of light or darkness. Bury me in the mystery of possibilities. Faces emerge and breeds a new future of uncertainty. Shaped emotions and thoughts illustrating new reason. The present swirls.
What does it mean to write? Laying down on my bed contemplating what my next words will be? What would entice a reader to stick through these simple words that would impact them? How would I draw an audience to my work? The questions that plague a writer. I find myself attempting to find proper
Search within the mystery. Bursting colors illuminated by darkness. Flickers of rays met with caverns of emotions. Into the deep.
O sweet goddess, you have marked me eternity. Hear my words part and reach tickled ears. Such beauty stretching beyond time and space. Trouble breeding strength and growth into such amazement. Your eyes are the sunset to my dreams. Your voice the melody to my heart. Your touch the calming wing. Catch me in your
Speak to me of days gone and I shall incite memories of yesterday to flourish once more. Speaking measures are taken to reignite thoughts and emotions drawn from distances once forgotten. Lest weary thoughts be a prison. Centuries drawn by passing. The past breeds change of the present.
Echoing thoughts raging from whispering silence swelling within. Nights of darkness met by flickering light. Vision disrupt by blurry noises. The paradox of the senses mixed as life finds meaning touched by empty spirits. Vibrating emotions catching the scent of the agent of nothingness. Tales carry home the tolls of finding life in an empty
What moves people? I’ve been asking myself the question that seems to spark interest in many people. I’ve been thinking about my work as an artist, a writer, to better help reach an audience. You could say I have those people who may indeed have been following me since the beginning and the real question