Sometimes I find the writings I come across delightful and enchanting, with all the prose and poetry and dancing fairies & glittering tinkerbells piroueting all over the page.
Other times it makes me angry-do people actually live in that kind of world?
It's certainly an appealing world, but it's not here.
Here is the opposite: dark, cold, scary, cruel, vicious.
If I leave my house I'm sure to encounter it, so I do as little as possible.
This is not an ideal way to live, but have you seen it out there?
So greedy it is: "what can you do for me?"
"Oh, you have no money, you have no means to make MY life better? Goodbye."
My head is often filled with cotton, and the wire connections are crossing and fizzling and making a stank like you wouldn't believe.
I would take my chances and wander out to visit a place where the head is cleansed and rewired with NEW wires.
There are corners of it that haven't seen daylight in a long, long time: seaweed, floating aimlessly in the dark-you would need a spotlight to see them.
Other corners are the opposite, too bright with sparking to look directly at-smoking and stenching.
My head hurts.
