written by owen

It has been raining a lot for some odd reason which I cannot understand or out think. It makes no sense at all. Let the love back in, give us the sunshine instead of the rain. All that I want is to be happy again. I broke office style code and started wearing sneakers to work, why does it have to be so hard, linger, remain present although waning and gradually dying. I am never ready for what you do.

"Leave pretty women to men without imagination". I have no idea who said that - look it up. And I would rather not be lured into commenting on relationships even when talking to myself. I get myself in trouble. I always say the wrong things like an insensitive bastard from a far away place with wide never ending fields of grass and stone walls on the edge of the ocean. Any comment I make is usually misinterpreted, one false move, its hard to breathe, words fail me, can't trust my hands for the work is too important.

I have not written in a while and without a suitable muse, writing about anything is useless sans something beautiful. Before long I'll start writing about writing. Or I'll just not write anything at all but there is always a ton of beauty in the world that appeals to all my senses. Had I the time to stop, look, smell and kill it. It is like when you feel something for a split second and it changes you somehow that you have to go back again and feed the hunger.

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