Most of my inspiration is from sadness...When I write, I create a release..I have no intention of causing depression from my poetry, if anything I appreciate the ability to express it.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

I had a dream...It was scary.

It was fall, it was dusk. There was a house, an older one. It was brown with black trim. The inside was empty with hardwood floors. In the kitchen there were open cabinets, all of them. Draws open, the fridge and oven, all open. I stood in the kitchen puzzled to see a large crop of white plates in a spiral. They started to move, some lifted in the air and dropped on the tile breaking. I ran away and was chased by something. It was horrifying. I couldn't see it. I went upstairs and it was almost pitch black,more grey I suppose. I could hear plates shattering downstairs. Then I was driving. Driving like I was escaping. The thoughts in my mind were fear that I was being followed or would be found. I woke up wanting to go back to my dream. I was curious. Hmmm......

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