Catharsis...

Catharsis by Zabiegly

The High in Disguise..

...what happens when the only high you know of is the high you get from a strange mixture of envy and pain.. the high of feeling robbed.. gushing in its puddle.. the particular ''sweet'' smell of victimization and the slime climbing up your pores.. How unmistakable you gravitate to it.. to this magnetically alluring replacement for a high that is originally equally emotionally engaging if not unimaginably more so.. How surgically precise do you veer from catching the fleeting glimpse of a thought that chiseled to matter, making your life a sculpture.. grown out of second hand puddle baths that dry your clay to dust..

The world of ''Saying nothing at all''

by brookeshaden

The real Capital

i'm not sure what this is supposed to be.. if it is supposed to be anything than it's supposed to be ''supposed free''.. straight from under the universmiths hammer.. not cooled by censor or hesitation.. not waiting for the ''stiff'' to get etched into the next journey and to trip over it.. so, the universe behind some pair of eyes might forgive me for not hitting the shift key simultaneously with a letter.. i'm supposing the ''capital'' is not in that.. people write messages to the known, mine are for the unknown.. and further still, mine just are.. ..

The Unfolding of Folds..

Did the thing we call ''universe'' stop in its tracks to consider someone will be watching him (her, it..) perform its unfolding.. If I am anything like it (him, her..) I would be too busy unfolding to ever stop and tremble at the possibility that what I unfold into will one day look at me and judge my folds..