Five minutes, any day. Spent writing—something anything not for anyone anything no edits no outlines no plans no correction, this is where it goes.enjoy.

Saturday, July 28, 2012


I understand how you feel that way. I understand. I do.
I know how that seems.  I know what it looks like, what it does to you.  I know the things its capable of.
I know why you want it, crave it, desire it, adore it.
But I don't. I can't.
It's like poison to me.
It's like poison to you, too, but you just don't know it yet.
And I don't care how wonderful it seems and how wonderful it makes your thoughts and how lovely you see it but the fact is it's not.
It's not and there are so many things wrong with it.
But they're not things I can put into words.  They're not things I can express.
I'm not good enough with words yet.  Not adroit enough.  Not skilled enough.
But it's not okay.  It's not okay.
And I know that you thing it's sublime, millions of miles better than okay.
But you're wrong.
And I'm not afraid to tell you that.
The rub comes with backing that up.
You're drinking poison
but you love it

so many people love it

and everything is just so twisted