Today was a frustrating one, work just didn't seem to gel. We were busy mind you and it seems some are not as committed as others, that however is another story.
Was thinking about dying my hair today, not sure why. Perhaps a line of black, or the tip a bright red. It's not something I have considered before. Any ideas feel free to comment them to me!
A dead day for the creation of poetry, only one sprang up out of the addled madness that is my mind. The poem is a rewrite of one I had done for my Degree, A touch of pacing a few cuts and I am happy with it.
I'll be getting up at six tomorrow morning so I shall bid you all goodnight, poem to follow.
Four Seasons
I'm gripped by the event that unfolds
A chance to preform for a captured croud
Snipping shocks twitch my system
Shaking my words
Perceaved nervousness
But this is my art and I splash you with paint
You give it meaning my spring lovers
Warm and heady I'm in it now
Animal fuzz wreathes me
Heart Still pounding
Better than sex
I'm in your mind
Take it in
This narcotic lyrical shot
This moment you are my summer
Groups getting colder
It can't be maintained
Is that guy getting bored?
The leaves of your faces are turning brown
Birds mocking birds
I'll be mocked in Autumn
Damn its cold in here
The snow of your bordom chills me
I've gone on too long
Her poem was better than mine
Fucking call myself a poet
My amateur lines arne't convincing these masters
Your winter robbed me
Maybe next summer.
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