Friday, December 18, 2009

the magic of poetry is no one will deny you the right to rant and rage in it, to love or to hate, to throw mud, eggs or phallic vegetables at people. no one will disallow you to feel two comflicting emotions, or ten at once, and think you insane. they just wont understand the poem. or they will tell you it is good, thus allowing your stupidly simple internal chemistry to override the pain transmission. lol, interneurones ;p

no one will take it too seriously either, you could be writing about something ten years ago or yesterday or yet to happen, who knows?

anyway, soon i will be in transit again, and then in the clutches of jetlag.. merry christmas to anyone who still reads this and much <3

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