breathing

breathe in, breathe out

it gets to a point when you are either so over-whelmed and worn-out, or under-whelmed and bored out of your skull, that letters and numbers and concrete reasonable logic simply do not make any more sense. they don't fall into any order, a jumble of mismatched shapes abstractly strewn across the page a la jackson pollack.

the only things that make sense right now are colors, flavors, music, the smell of a greenhouse full of plants, the smell of peatmoss, yarn and a hot cup of tea.

glowing green pajamas, pink furry-clad tootsies, obscure texts by well-known authors.

knowing what i want is the best trick of them all.

blue circles. green lines. yellow specks.

-Samantha Rose, 2007.