Clear as water, clear as glass. I wish I could still say that everything in my life was clear. Except that it’s not. I’ve lost my family, only my parents and my younger sister still talk to me. I’ve lost everything that used to be clear to me just because a man decided to tear me apart.
Clear as the foggy day, she found herself. She was as foggy as an oldtimer with alzheimers. Trapped in a post-traumatic cycle of disturbing memories of the past, unable to break away and see the world clearly. She was a headcase of the best variety: loving, caring, and compassionate, yet troubled nonetheless.
Her mind was not clear, nor had it ever been. It was in chaos, one thought clashing against the next. She couldn’t make up her mind, she couldn’t see her next steps as her mind was trapped in a collision of past problems and present difficulties. She was working on it, but she was all alone. It was hard.
the mind, the hour, they day, the air the water. the fog rolls away, the bright and the sun and song becomes present. This is clear, the ordinary state behind the confusion that is not ordinary but somehow ubiquitous. Clear is the path,
ah. It isn’t always clear is it? We want things simple and black and white. And of course life isn’t that way. It’s 50 shades of Grey hahaha! So all you can do is trust God and try your best. Love one another and have a positive fucking attitude. And love. Love each other lots and lots. I love you Alison :)
Farkle stared through the window of Topanga’s from the courtyard peering inside. He watched closely and intently at the boy dressed in blue as he laughed and joked with his other friends. Maya and Riley sat on the couch next to him and on the other side near the bar stood Zay getting what he assumed were their coffee orders. Farkle watched from a distance as the object of his affections as of late seemed to be telling a very hilarious story of some kind to the group. Farkle felt his heart swell at the sight of Lucas.
the solitary happieness stays confined into the cabin;
wherein, love, wherein, hate, is all suffocated
but,
only one whirling wind lets out,
of the stringently wooden-locked cabin!
Today I could not think very clear my mind was awash with intriguing ideas, wirling around like a washing machine . What would happen within the next few weeks were a total mystery, but at the end I was hoping the outcome would be clear and I would forfill my ideal career opportunity.
The sky eventually cleared along with her worries clouding inside her head. And it also stopped drizzling outside as hints of sunshine crept through her bedroom window. She thought that maybe today would be a good day to go out and bask in the sun before it starts raining again.
clearly not, she said, i would never, she said, i couldn’t, she said, and then she paused
a million remembrances, a thousand thoughts, each whirling through, passing by, zipping and blipping and shocking her as her mind suddenly asked,
could i?
would i?
have i?
I wan’t you out of my fucking life
do you understand
out of my mind
out of the endless night
out just out
and clean your blood after you , will ya?
so that i can finally see
clear
I didn’t mean to do it. Or I did. I didn’t want to do it. Or did I? My judgement was clouded by emotions, and the clouds bore raindrops of doubt. When the rain falls, will I be caught in it? Drenched? Soaked? A sodding wet pile of tears that when wrung out, seem to only cause more to fall from the sky. I’ve never seen anything clear as day, because it’s clear to me, the day is for no man to say, whether it’s clear or not. Who knows what the future holds, maybe rainbows? Maybe the sky is falling and I’m praying for more rain, calling, dancing , prancing, in circles, waiting for the sunlight. And when you feel the warmth I’m like Steve Urkel, did I do that, this cycle is a circle. I pray for rain, soak in disdain, and my hand grow blisters from wringing out the pain. A cycle. Over and over again. Repeat it back to me, so I could pretend, that the sun is out. Hotter than the desert. Even the sun gets to feel under the weather.
I wish everything in life were as clear as the blue Colorado sky in early November. The sky is so clear that it is a blank canvas onto which everything stands in stark contrast. If life were as clear as that, perhaps I would make better choices.
Snipers, grenades, IEDs were par for the course, but it was impossible to tell when they would show up. The only sure thing Sergeant Baker knew was that Private Ford always had his six. So when Ford stepped on an IED, Baker froze in place, refused to turn around as his Private’s blood soaked him.
Clear as water, clear as glass. I wish I could still say that everything in my life was clear. Except that it’s not. I’ve lost my family, only my parents and my younger sister still talk to me. I’ve lost everything that used to be clear to me just because a man decided to tear me apart.
Clear as the foggy day, she found herself. She was as foggy as an oldtimer with alzheimers. Trapped in a post-traumatic cycle of disturbing memories of the past, unable to break away and see the world clearly. She was a headcase of the best variety: loving, caring, and compassionate, yet troubled nonetheless.
Her mind was not clear, nor had it ever been. It was in chaos, one thought clashing against the next. She couldn’t make up her mind, she couldn’t see her next steps as her mind was trapped in a collision of past problems and present difficulties. She was working on it, but she was all alone. It was hard.
transparent, able to see through, pure, able to reconize through a solid. see through, like glass.
ttransparent, able to see through, pure, able to reconize through.
the mind, the hour, they day, the air the water. the fog rolls away, the bright and the sun and song becomes present. This is clear, the ordinary state behind the confusion that is not ordinary but somehow ubiquitous. Clear is the path,
ah. It isn’t always clear is it? We want things simple and black and white. And of course life isn’t that way. It’s 50 shades of Grey hahaha! So all you can do is trust God and try your best. Love one another and have a positive fucking attitude. And love. Love each other lots and lots. I love you Alison :)
Translucent or whatever, do I really have to describe this word, clear? It’s really boring…
Free and clear. That’s what I want to feel like, now. I am heavy with the unsolvable and foreboding.
Farkle stared through the window of Topanga’s from the courtyard peering inside. He watched closely and intently at the boy dressed in blue as he laughed and joked with his other friends. Maya and Riley sat on the couch next to him and on the other side near the bar stood Zay getting what he assumed were their coffee orders. Farkle watched from a distance as the object of his affections as of late seemed to be telling a very hilarious story of some kind to the group. Farkle felt his heart swell at the sight of Lucas.
the solitary happieness stays confined into the cabin;
wherein, love, wherein, hate, is all suffocated
but,
only one whirling wind lets out,
of the stringently wooden-locked cabin!
Today I could not think very clear my mind was awash with intriguing ideas, wirling around like a washing machine . What would happen within the next few weeks were a total mystery, but at the end I was hoping the outcome would be clear and I would forfill my ideal career opportunity.
The sky eventually cleared along with her worries clouding inside her head. And it also stopped drizzling outside as hints of sunshine crept through her bedroom window. She thought that maybe today would be a good day to go out and bask in the sun before it starts raining again.
clearly not, she said, i would never, she said, i couldn’t, she said, and then she paused
a million remembrances, a thousand thoughts, each whirling through, passing by, zipping and blipping and shocking her as her mind suddenly asked,
could i?
would i?
have i?
the bombardment, too strong, too true, too close
full brakes
she says
no. i’d never.
I wan’t you out of my fucking life
do you understand
out of my mind
out of the endless night
out just out
and clean your blood after you , will ya?
so that i can finally see
clear
I didn’t mean to do it. Or I did. I didn’t want to do it. Or did I? My judgement was clouded by emotions, and the clouds bore raindrops of doubt. When the rain falls, will I be caught in it? Drenched? Soaked? A sodding wet pile of tears that when wrung out, seem to only cause more to fall from the sky. I’ve never seen anything clear as day, because it’s clear to me, the day is for no man to say, whether it’s clear or not. Who knows what the future holds, maybe rainbows? Maybe the sky is falling and I’m praying for more rain, calling, dancing , prancing, in circles, waiting for the sunlight. And when you feel the warmth I’m like Steve Urkel, did I do that, this cycle is a circle. I pray for rain, soak in disdain, and my hand grow blisters from wringing out the pain. A cycle. Over and over again. Repeat it back to me, so I could pretend, that the sun is out. Hotter than the desert. Even the sun gets to feel under the weather.
i love lamp
I wish everything in life were as clear as the blue Colorado sky in early November. The sky is so clear that it is a blank canvas onto which everything stands in stark contrast. If life were as clear as that, perhaps I would make better choices.
Snipers, grenades, IEDs were par for the course, but it was impossible to tell when they would show up. The only sure thing Sergeant Baker knew was that Private Ford always had his six. So when Ford stepped on an IED, Baker froze in place, refused to turn around as his Private’s blood soaked him.