as i sit and contimplate the seconds,minuets,and hours pass by. Leaving me alone in dark shadowless rooms where light bends at the cracks of the door. I wonder what has brought me to this i wonder why i'm here. Somedays i sit for hours and others i dont sit at all so inconvinient is my thinking always pressuring myself to think to hard to over complicate to much to try to grasp the understandings of things i cannot yet understand. Silence like a disease swallows me whole and makes me quiver shake and tremble. Deep breathes drown out the suffacating sound of silence. Distant dreams that i ounce viewed lay scribbled out, erased, and lost. More dark more sitting more thinking, no more dreaming

nice write

you've got a future as a writer man.stephen king won't live forever.that was pretty cool unless that's how you feel inside.if so, talk to someone before it's too late man.peace.

thanks man no i'm not depressed i've just always been good at words and making them work together i appreciate your comment

thank you