Words, writing, thoughts

Untitled
What a pretty age
Glorious to exist
Let's put it up on stage
See what makes it twitch

All we have to do is live forever
Just give them what they want
Say something clever
And give them all you've got

Words words words....when you look at them long enough, they lose their meaning. They cease to be a means of communication and become meaningless lines on a page.

I've been staring at the words on a page in the book I'm reading and I seem to have lost my powers of comprehension. Where do they go when they get lost?

I write and write, and still I find no meaning. I write and write, and the words fail me. I write and write, and the only reason to continue writing is to keep the madness at bay, to watch my thoughts become records of this very moment. I'm not actually going mad, I'm just opening myself up to the thoughts that are overlooked. The thoughts that poke at you and exist in a place outside of normal. Thoughts that would cause others to look to you with concern, because we have all been taught to control these thoughts and prevent ourselves from thinking so. Thoughts that play in your periphery and form chains that would carry you to far off places. I write to allow these thoughts some time in the sun, time to be free of restraints. I write to remember these thoughts before they run off to join thoughts far away, far from here.

I decided, no I never decided...I surrendered to my thoughts and this is what comes of surrender. It may not make any sense, but what is the use of sense.

Yours as always,

Laughing Boy