I’ve been trying to sketch my life on a piece of paper.
Imbrications of thoughts luring spiral layers
escalated into the complex, the forgotten, the unknown.
Somewhere, sometime, this child was set to roam lost
to figure out what’s this all about, to be, to do…

Abandon is the name of that town, that somewhere, to be, to do…

I’ve been trying to sketch my feelings on that notebook.
It’s a tedious story, a fogy light I don’t want to look,
and yet, my stubborn hands reach for the pen, craving to recall
but it isn’t love and tenderness what damaged me at all
was the confusion of all there is, to be, to do…

Indecision is the name of that sea, that ocean, to be, to do…

I’ve been trying to write me off this lonely lethargy
which I had deceived so many times with this faked energy
only to arrive back to this labyrinth of spiral mysteries
where one has to try to get rid of owned atrophies
and the voice keeps calling over and over, to be, to do…

I’ve been trying to write me off, to write me free, to be, to do…

Abandon is the name of that town,' love this line!
rich=reach???
More later, Gail

butterflyzrfree wrote:

Abandon is the name of that town,' love this line! rich=reach??? More later, Gail

Thanks for the correction, and for commenting.