Wednesday, January 05, 2005

Pillow journaling

Life is an enchantress
She seduces me with her beauty,
I know her wiles
And i flee her enchantments,
But love is a natural weakness
A drug which dulls my senses,
A mist which clouds everything
till i heed my cries of desires
And reason only hears an echoing of itself.

Tons of work, zero mood.