watch me. let your eyes pour into me. listen to the ideas splurging from my lips. as i describe every word of it and every detail, stare at me as though you can see a moving picture. architectural designs released from my finger tips onto paper. floor plans for our dream home. that vanity closet and our walk in closet because we're both so obssessed with our appearance, oddly enough. this had a point, but it's flown from my "pretty little" head and it's static. blank, meaningless, soundless static... our dream home! and two bedrooms for our little girl and little boy- no there was a point before this one. admire me. infatuate yourself with my curiosity, creativeness, and craziness. take a second to realize that i'm not a tv without channels, but one with endless, changing channels. very few have static frequencies ringing through your ears but every now and then it will glitch and revert to a blank space, then back to too many words coming from too many different characters at too many miles per second. oh, but there we go again. where was i?
YOU ARE READING
Fictional Memoirs of a Daydreamer
PoetryMy multiple personalities make for interesting daydreaming tales. So read my fictional memoir filled with the tales in my head. Share your favorites and show your love and dislike towards my stories.
