Sound System

Plays: 23  | Likes: 2  | Shelves: 2  | Comments: 4

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


8 Track Tape.

Created: January 03,2019

Submitted: July 24, 2018

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Submitted: July 24, 2018

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Enthusiasm. 

A recurring momentary thought of forgetfulness, I feel over and over again, toward my conviction of words.

Separated.

 

Like the white of egg falling down between slippery fingers holding the yolk of my purpose, I find the seed of life.

 

Divided.

 

I feel drawn, pulled away and colorful upon paper, like a crayon cartoon of myself after Saturday morning cereal.

 

Disposable.

 

I am twin razor sharp, and thrown away, as their will always be another to replace me.

 

Elated.

 

No one is quite like me, proven through unmathematical moments of broken solar calculators.

 

Opened.

 

I reach up and reach out, searching for the gift taker to adore whatever will be willed to them.

 

Bored.

 

I become inspired.

 

Tired.

 

I feel the want to find a connection, or at least to see others connect, so I sleep as they do, ignoring one another.

 

Change.

 

I would rather fly without the ability of flight than wait for the metamorphosis, when I know one day I will.

 

Push.

 

I make happen all my frequently mouth dried moments, signaling out all my mastered productions for the crowd.

 

Take.

 

A particular delight in the conversation of the ones we choose to connect with, the acquaintance of art.

 

Give.

 

The fire of my consuming heart in the interest of divine expression.

 

Hope.

 

Of my lit up wandering crimson sensibilities, my soul cheerfully looks into the springtime of its natural character.

 

Finality.

 

My strong an unprofitable imagination slanders its way to the intelligent and enlightened.

 

Parting,

my voice.


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