God! That's Good!

Oh no! Not me! I never lost control. You're face to face with the man who sold the world.

Time started: 3:01 pm.
Time of awakening: 12:07pm
Weather: Stormy, it's becoming a usual.
Music: The Night Pat Murphy Died - Great Big Sea
Mood: Cheery, but because of the music I kinda feel like getting mass Irish drunk and dancing on the tables.
Current Thoughts: The guy in the song 5000 miles sounds soooo whipped.

So it's midway through July, and what have I done with my summer? You could say not a lot, but I honestly feel like I'm getting somewhere, perhaps not physically, but my mental condition has improved so much and I feel a lot better than I did when school first ended. Purify the mind and the body will follow. That's the hopes here. My body isn't as healthy as it could be, but once again, better than it was.

Everything small seems to be more interesting, everything sacred, less confusing. The world is slowly turning and I am no longer standing still. I am no longer a sitting duck trapped within my own walls, which I myself built. The fabric is tearing, the tears are drying and the worst of the moment is behind me in a whirl of dark colours which I will one day turn around and cherish. Maybe not today. Maybe not yet. But one day. Everything will be better, and you know, it's all ups and downs. Where's the fun without that?

So off my own inner turbulence. I really feel like dancing. But I can't Irish dance. I'd want to though if I could. I also kinda feel like writing. That's probably what I'm doing here. Trying to satisfy my urge to write. I'm not in the mood for a novel writing binge, I just want to write. OMG I HAVEN'T WRITTEN POETRY IN SO LONG. I should do that. That's what I shall do. I'll do it right now.

Implications of Propriety

An anarchist somewhere is ready to awake,
To open his eyes and welcome the day.
Thankful for the oppertunities he will take,
Already thinking of things he will say.

A seven year old girl gets struck down in the streets,
By an automobile whose breaks were cut.
The paramedics cover her with plastic sheets.
The boy with pliers watches with his eyes shut.

An elderly man breaks down and sobs in dispair,
Thinking of his seven year old sister.
His mother had told him to be greatly aware,
And be sure not to help the strange mister.

This grevious tail of many woes and hardships,
Is a warning to those who tend to think,
That the lives which have seemingly simplistic scripts,
Don't cause terror further down the chainlink.

Ok I'm pleased, although VERY annoyed with my father. I'm listening to fiddles still. I should probably go now... Before I start getting repetitious and such.

Bye!