Constant Rush
If I stop to breath
I might die.
If I stop to think
I might go mad.
If I stop to rest
I may keep moving.
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It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
-
▼
2009
(385)
-
▼
July
(40)
- Ambivalence Strikes Ambition
- When The Escape Becomes The Prison
- Every Evening Turns To Mourn
- Motion
- This Is Why I Don't Like To Remember My Dreams
- Trash Bin
- Lay, Zee, Sun, Day.
- Mental/Physical
- Inevitable?
- Painful Flesh and Needed Money
- After this moment, EVERYTHING
- Trying To Reconnect
- Fill In The Blanks
- Asshole
- For my beloved family in Mexico, I miss you.
- A Constant Quest
- Early Morning from a Late Night
- In A Place Whores Did Business
- Why I Am Going To Be Late To Work Today
- Morning
- Mining The Light & Darkness
- Shards from the end.
- Killing Fields
- The Warmth Of The Morning
- We Are Undone, We Are Ending
- Before The Memory Is Lost
- Primal Primacy
- Dedicated To Innocence
- Sharing The Great & Small
- Frustrated Bastard
- La Ciudad De Los Angeles
- Dealing
- If my heart stops beating...
- The Width Of A Circle
- A City Stained With The Memory Of Years
- 'Merican
- How Dark Is Your Dark Side?
- As You Burn Out
- The Vain and Vapid
- Strange Light and Darkest Night.
-
▼
July
(40)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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