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McDude's Kind of CoolDifusing Frustraion comes easy. |
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� 2001-10-23 - 10:57 p.m. I can run but I cannot hide things make sense and I don�t know why. Tonight my ceiling feels high. Much higher then I have ever noticed before. I can almost touch the ceiling yet I feel it is towering over me. The nights have grown into my mornings. The rooms have elongated. The commute from my living room to my bedroom is epic. A lone ball rests in the corner where I had last tossed it. My walls scream for Jack my floors scream for suds and the tile in the bathtub wants to go to the dentist. The refrigerator is full of potential nutrition. In the cupboards are immortal meals. Outside the ground is struggling to catch its breath as falling leaves choke it and the night fights to show its stars through the glare of the city and the clouds of a storm. I try to swear and curse. I try to let my frustrations out but my logical mind diffuses them with rational thoughts and conscience reason. Repetitive chords are heard from a guitar. The beat is good and the melody stumbles out. Lets solo, tis a gift to be simple tis a gift to be free pluck pluck. The solo falls apart. I fucked it up. I don�t throw my pick or say, �God Damn it all to hell.� I quietly stare across the room and see the lone ball in the corner where I had thrown it months before. Then, the chords begin to repeat again. He used to do Surgery On girls in the 80�s But Gravity always wins. Like this entry? Vote for me here!
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