Crooked Circle

I can feel it, feel it inside me, crying to get out into reality.

It's been in my head now for so long it cant remember what it is anymore.

My knowledge of it is vague at best, and the only word i can think of to describe it is:


As for letting it out... I'm doing it right now.

This is the release, release of my artistic ability unto you:

The consumer of influnce, the influence it has over you.

Hopefully, it will engulf you and render you useless for a few seconds, putting the hairs on the back of your neck on guard for a lifetime.

After which you will have the first encounter with ideas you never imagined you could imagine.

You see, like a child sheilding his baby sister's corpse from the rain, this, is a krooked circle;

Not at all right, but looks it.

This isnt a poem, this isnt a blog, or even a diary entry.

With any luck, this is an inspiration.

by Benjamin Sorvel

Comments (1)

There are moments of inspiration. Keep writing.