

Dreaming to Bob DylanI woke up this morning with eyes as red as a full moon in late summer—really, they were simply the result of allergies and contacts. But it looked like I’d spent the whole night crying in my sleep, and once that thought entered my head, my sadness hit me like a baseball to the jaw of an inattentive phy. ed. student. BAM. And suddenly everything I’ve been feeling during the past few months made sense.Dreaming to Bob Dylan
My flashbacks of those days look like the photos my mom keeps in a cardboard box at the very back of her closet. Black and white snapshots with borders textured by a pair of pinking shears forty some years ago and the “whites” of the


they made us read kafkathey made us read kafka without preamble or warning or so much as a breath in the direction of a foreward no prologue no anatomy of a cockroach they made us read kafka and in my final essay, I swore that he was a crazy nut who slept outside in a cardboard box underneath the 110 freeway in downtown Los Angeles with the rest of his former existentialists who turned men into insects and arrested innocents. they made us read kafka and wrestle with his unfinished stories, essays novels social commentary... graduated, resigned, bitter wthey made us read kafka
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Rather than asking Who am I? we
might ask, In how many ways can I be myself? Rather
than asking What is my place in the world? the
question might be better put, In how many ways can I
experience a sense of belonging to the world?
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"The ships hung in the air in much the same way that bricks don't." - Douglas Adams
Gallery: [link]
Prints: [link]
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We are not perfect, but we sure try.
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shoot it down, shoot it down baby.
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What the fuck ever!!
~dark-writing
~Emotional-Writings
~LPS
~DPSociety
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"I saved Latin - what did you ever do?"
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What the fuck ever!!
~dark-writing
~Emotional-Writings
~LPS
~DPSociety
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You just got a comment from the Redheadeddemonbitchfromhell
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