I'm deeper than I seem.
No, I promise: this isn't just melodramatics. Not another take on Hamlet or Macbeth, but just a coincidental combination of icicles melting, splatting on gravel and pen ink smearing across faint blue lines that my mind calls home. I don't know if this makes sense, no idea where I started, no idea where I will end. I'm lost but I don't care. I'm still but I don't mind. For once I allow myself to feel what has been bogged down underneath Huck Finn's raft and let it out. It's not readable. It's hidden in the ink and then chord structure, the rhythm of the the night, the beat of the dawn. And, just like the day, I continue to burn at both ends...
I'm deeper than I seem.
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