'lo...

i blame it on my birthright... pisceans are dreamers... straddling past recollections and future dreams... but seldom rooted in the present... but then and again... who cares if i'm a dreamer...? dreams... fantasy... memory... what happens when they all blur into one fantastical illusion...?

you go mad... that's what...

anyways... my mood's swinging around... haha... see this way now... and saw another in about seven minutes and thirty-two point five seconds... and so on so forth... but all largely unpleasant...
the moon has waxed past its pregnant peak... and we all go slightly mad... hmm... maybe i suffer from mild lycanthropy...
howl...

lame yar... ah well... just feeling generally cranky... not depressed... as some people have observed of me...
no... i'm not depressed... just moody... slight difference there... fine distinction... firstly and most importantly... (to you all at least...) is that moody... can mean the kind that makes people swoon at my knees...

or at least most people...

sigh... so many things to say that i can't find words for... not in writing... nor in poetry... and alas... not even in my solace of music... or rather... the emotions well up when i'm alone and helpless with no way to seek expression... but sitting down now... i find no such inspiration to write... traitorous heart...

ah well... in pining i hope i'll find my pinetree...

"I’d watched the sorrow of the evening sky,
And smelt the sea, and earth, and the warm clover,
And heard the waves, and the seagull’s mocking cry.

And in them all was only the old cry,
That song they always sing—“The best is over!
You may remember now, and think, and sigh,
O silly lover!”
And I was tired and sick that all was over,
And because I,
For all my thinking, never could recover
One moment of the good hours that were over.
And I was sorry and sick, and wished to die.

Then from the sad west turning wearily,
I saw the pines against the white north sky,
Very beautiful, and still, and bending over
Their sharp black heads against a quiet sky.
And there was peace in them; and I
Was happy, and forgot to play the lover,
And laughed, and did no longer wish to die;
Being glad of you, O pine-trees and the sky!"
- Rupert Brooke, 'Pine-Trees and the Sky: Evening'