snippets

from august01,2006

in the crowd of the foreign,
in the elbow jostle of pressing heat
in the hushed singleness beneath the hum of activity,
where faces peer in the window, but no one knocks at the door,
i only wish, on an eyelash,
not to be crushed.

--
reading old entries revive a desire in me to spill my words out as if on a blank page, to capture emotion fresh and raw and express them as they were, without pasteurization and culturing, the bacterium nature of those words, here.

submission is in three days, and my motivation has not come. i must find it somewhere within myself, or somewhere in the ideas from my Maker. you know, the cross is not a gift from God, it is a gift OF God. which, is a gift itself, the gift of Himself.

like a gift of apples would be, well, apples!

i don't like dreams, they scare me. although i had a funny one last night, about a church camp. guess who won the most good looking and sexiest award! i dunno also, the dream didnt last til the prize presentation.