I wrote the love songs
so I could hear you sing them
now I just write songs

-hellosharon

the body is ill.
maybe the air's too cold.

the mind is sick.
maybe the heart doesn't know.

know? no,
not anymore.

what do you see?

night. lights. blue. red. green. pink. no, magenta.

aurora! alaska. northern lights. golden compass. philip pullman. dust.

in rainbows. radiohead. boundary-busting brilliance. faust arp. stuffed. stuffed. stuffed.

glowsticks. moshpit. klaxons. jealousy. nu rave. att.laan.tis! to interzooone.

Listening to music gets the mind wandering.

Midnight reading escapades are punctuated by frequent zone-outs.
Like wandering from the wanderers.


Minutes before sleep. 
That's when the stream of thoughts flow in endlessly, as if the mind refuses to let the body surrender to the sweet seduction of slumber.

But i forget.

When i wake up, they're all gone from my head like darkness from the morning sun.



Nothing beats the spontaneity of pen and paper.

my train of thought crashed into a distracting/distracted cow.