There is thing about subtleness, the more you subject yourself to it, the harder it backfires. Days; shorter as they seem and longer as they are, never intermingle with deliriousness. Deliriousness though, moves parallel with their superficial nature. There have been clarifications, elucidations and verifications of men and monsters, youth and age, liars and cheaters, life and death; but they have been limited and restricted to utter seriousness. Maybe the world seems a better place when channeling forceful streams unto the paper. Do we or don't we defy a day that drags like a corpse along a dry pavement? A muddy alley, many times maybe, but do we be grateful for when we're pledged?
|Lisa Greenstein's Art|
Of a dragging day if I must, it is more like snatching breath out of the lungs, sound away from the chords, music from the instruments, droplets out of the ocean and sanity out of maturity. A dragging day starts but so does it end, shall it or shan't it be treated like a disease? For when a disease strikes one is quite unaware, for when it takes the life why label it bigoted or unfair? Thus, of a dragging day, if we look unto it, my Lord are there a gazillion people who work around it? I suffer of a disease similar to a dragging day, loneliness the doctors say, I rather it being labeled as the state of withdrawal. But no matter what the reference, the cause remains the same, I am a patient of a bloody dragging day!