And then I did this: (Kinda rough, might touch it up some and lengthen it later. I like it, though.)

Hands of horror! The stricken man knows not the world
That holds him so fearfully in the grasp of their minds,
For what could be known but such unnatural curvature,
Staggeringly jagged, beautiful if made by man
But not when partly man himself! “Know your home!”, they screech!
“Find your way to a refinery! Know smoke, know fire!”
If he could cover up his face with hands he would,
And yet he is indestructible but by feelings.
He takes their stones better–harsher things, words,
They may well be cast in steel. He once raised a hand to quell them.
It seemed like he had just halfway uncurled a fist,
But eternally held in the position. They opposed his cling to life with horror.
O! If only you could be a noble statue to be beheld!
He has wished many times for his fingers to be burnt, melted,
And then molded to hold another close–
But then he thinks on the pain of heat for them, and like times before,
Knows the sadness of walls.

Advertisements

So I am starting a blog/journal!

I don’t have the best track record with these things–I have a couple of blog pages floating around the internet, none of them with more than a half dozen posts. One in particular has about four posts, of which two were failed attempts (each separated by months from the previous post) to restart┬áthe blog and get it actually going. ┬áThis doesn’t even take into account my attempts to start a privately written journal, which are just way too numerous to for me to try and recount them all.

But then, why am I trying this now?

Keep on readin’ on?