it comes it goes the imagination flows. its wacky and weird.nothing
to be feared. its how my imagination works. I don't think I wright
no plan, no sight. it comes from my inner emotion. I sit and stare
sometimes glare.but wouldn't you? would you sit for a minute
imagine your in it. i would. i speed it up i slow it down, its how
you really read it. i know this is weird and its gone all nonsense.
i like rhyming, in my head sitting in my bed. i guess im a poet and
i know it. my imagination comes up with its self,i use my imagery
to help. im funny i guess but thats nothing less to how i use my
imagination. or is it the way i dress?
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