masochistic moments and ranting

there are just those times when you yearn for your heart to be ripped from your body and stomped on - to give you an excuse to feel so bad? - to give you a reason to cry?

i used to write. beautifully painful pieces..or just wonderfully flowery love-filled epilogues of that kind of emotion youd aliken to the thanksgiving leftovers on sunday morning.. not quite old enough to throw out but youre not sure you want to consume them either.. whomever they were about seemed to like them.. if i were to find and read any of it now im sure it would make me sick. either in the stomach or in the head.
its a given then that i dont so much write poetry anymore..prose if you will. im sure i should, but i dont. hrm.. i suppose you could liken an exegesis of biblical text to prose..without the rhyming scheme...? ha! (yes, i actually said ha aloud)

if i were to paint.. im afraid that i wouldnt use enough color.. im afraid that whatever id paint would tell too much about whats not going on inside my head.. or better yet.. how sad it might make some to realize how much it all tends to run together. people are so much more similar than they give themselves credit for...long, broad strokes to explain it all.. not that uniqueness doesnt count.. but that its not what drives me. not that i care much for uniform..just that i dont mind it very much either ;)

yes.. a bit awkward.. i know.. bear with me...i'll update for real soon.
lots going on.. very busy.. very..tired..generally.
But all is well. *smile*

Raymond