Maladies of an insecure wordsmith. The crap I write.

These words that I write that I constantly seem to want to talk about and speak and which I eventually wind up yelling and shouting out loud are perhaps an attempt to draw attention…. No! For sure these are vain attempts to draw attention. But attention to what? something strange? something familiar? something painful or funny? something vaguely specific? something right or wrong, ...truth or lies? Its not all black and white you know. Its great greys and all the colors that vibgyor through this cosmic show. Nothings perfect... and thats the most perfect thing about everything. Everything else is just whispering by the graveyard.