Nov 05

flighty writing


I don't know what to write about.
somedays, 
insperation flows from my fingertips like an endelles river of poetry. 
and others,
nothing.
I can't seem to find my usaul spark today,
it seems lost 
in a world of consant entertainment and over reactions.
I need to snap out of it
find that voice inside me
the voice
that tells me where to step in the forest, so I make as little sound as possible
the voice
that sings me to sleep every night, when it's quiet as hell and any abnoramal sound freaks the s#!t out of me 
the voice
that's there for me, when nobody else is 
the voice
that first whispered those thoughts in my ear
the voice
that made me look at you 
the voice 
that led me to a friend
someone I can trust 
and laugh with 
and cry with 
and whisper secrets to when the get to heavy for my soul alone.
the voice that led me to you 
and the voice 
that started this war 
with myself 
and taught me 
just how unpridictable 
and unsteady our emotional lives truly are.