Closure is, perhaps, only a word.
One which is brought up and spoken to highly,
for the merits it provide is lauded as the sole justice.
But in the end, closure brings little joy.
It is a word, that has to exist.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

There is so much to do, and yet I choose to do nothing. It pains me not to work, and yet I leave it be. Days are fallen leaves, and autumn's clutches firm. Auburn crumbles through my fingers, the dust of time's allure.
Yet staring down will only fill the mind with a carpet of tree's veil, but looking up gives me a chance, to catch one by the tail.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Relief is said to come when you alleviate your ties, the tension eases and your mind unwinds. Perhaps that is so, but were I to listen, I would relinquish all that my mind is tied to. If I untie one know, who is to say it won't undo them all? And if not, who's the say the next knot won't? Or the next? Or the next?

Perhaps I have already sunken too deep. Perhaps I have made it unattainable to myself, perhaps it doesn't matter.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Time goes by too quickly, and time speeds by to fast, while I sit back into my couch and pack on cushion ass.
Light now withdrawing, and nights growing... roaming, that could have been anything.
You just, have to keep out of its sight.
As long as you stay moving, you fade from its bright. So do not just stand there, with robe unveiled, while there is lot else worth exploring.

Happy nightmare night~.

It takes a long while to process a moment thoroughly, we pass through so many that there is little we can absorb. But when I pause, and consider, every moment is worth so much discussion, so much depiction, so much attention. And yet we leave most of them be.
Terrifying to think, of all those unappreciated out there.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Greetings, and welcome to Filthy Friday the Thirteenth~.

This will be the last filthy Friday for neary a year's time, so of course we-...

...

Tailor thy vest to suit thine needs,
Tailor thy vest so you cannot breathe.

Take a stance to face the world,
Take cover in shadows from all it hurled.

Tread with vigour towards thine goal,
Tread in silence, so no one beholds.

Thus you ensure that you see all,
Thus you ensure no one sees your fall.

...

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I sit on a beach, a bit mellow and sad,
when out from a burrow, scuttles a crab.
The shelled critter stares, across the sand it zooms,
it hasn't seen anyone, beset by this gloom.
It is there for a moment, then fades out of sight,
The shelled critter has no input, on my weary plight.
When out from my sorrow, bemused and, glad?
I sit on the beach, an monument to a crab.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Sometimes days take too long to process. And I start going over it in my head again and again, until it is long into the next day, and there is even more to digest. Eventually there is so much I power down, and reset to a blank slate to catch up with myself. But then it happens again.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

It is a funny thing, because I haven't thought about it much. That thing which many crave, to which so much prose is drafted, to which so many tunes are sung. Perhaps it has been easier to not think about it. Perhaps it is something I desire, despite the fact I have not sought it. There is a nagging sensation in my mind, asking me if I can truly be satisfied without it. The answer has always been foregone for me. But, perhaps it is just foreign to me. Unlike so many others, who claim: we're no

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I would like to be a worm. A carefree existence, where I eat as much dirt as my stomach can hold, and unload it all the same.
Where I remain hidden from view under a cool, safe rock.
Where if I were split in twain, I would have a new friend to nurture together.

The more I think of it, the more my life resembles that of a worm already.
We even bleed the same.

Happy Filthy Friday~.