Free Writing

"Free writing is serendipitous: It can help you to discover new ideas, liberate inner thoughts and tensions, and improve your other writing skills." Writing that's not supposed to be shared with anyone but there's no harm in posting it here in my blog, no? So here's what i wrote in a free writing session i did today at 1:49 am to 1:58 am....


Just the flowers are wilting. Like no more colors. Black. Ugly. Not fragrant. Just a piece of crap sitting hanging at the end of a stem disconnected from all the life, the water the things necessary for it to grow. The birds are chirping a sad song. The clouds are looming in the eastern sky. the sun cant be seen. Where are you? Where have you been? there's nothing but the rain. the photographs are fading. in the endless sky i see the horizon. horses flying into space. Life is crazy sometimes. most of the time. The pebbles, the rocks, they stay in place. Yet they don't. They move. Feet kick them. a boulder moved by some big machinery. nothing stays in its place ever. not the flower, not the river. it keeps flowing. it keeps dying. life is just a process of dying and living and dying and living again. An dthen what, you reach out for a bottle of tylenol because your head hurts and suddenly your heart hurts too. you see it bleed. you see it break. and then you wonder, will it ever be whole again? will it ever cry again? and what if it does cry again? can you wipe the tears away and ignore the marks they leave? what are you gonna do? are you just gonna stand there? like a man on a street in a busy city flagging a taxi cab? well guess what, there are no tqaxi cabs. im afraid you'll have to use your feet so you can leave, so you can go to far far away places. like a bird you will fly free into the horizon, to countries far far away. and when you go, ill come search for you. maybe tomorrow when i wwake up i wake up searching for your love

and maybe i will find it under my pillow. the petals of sunflowers under my pillow. no scent. but the color remains. they are as yellow as ever. i hold them in my hand and feel their no longer tender petals. but fragile. carefully i touch them and put them close to my lips so i could reminisce their tenderness

maybe it will bring back great memories of yesteryears when love was new. when love was like a river flowing. crystal clear.

the floor is cold. my back touching it. stinging. i lay there with my heart in my hand. a smile on my face. my hair spread all over. i grab the heart, clenched my fist and throw it and i hope someone will be there to catch it.

or i will never find it again. no one will ever find it again.....