Look down, look down.

I read my old posts and hmm. Ji Ching is sick of being pretentiously intellectual. No more theasaurus.com. My old posts make me feel like an aspiring Adrian Mole.

This is my new resolution. To be uncut, uncensored, but not RA.

Bottled

Asphyxiate this emptiness
And it will be a tight squeeze
As the ball of gall gets rolling
Clinking,
Clank

Clunk.

Into the brains that were,
Taste the ambrosia of full-bodied
Amnesia. It is difficult,
To ponder, or stow-away

This endless rolling
On sharp ends.
Thud. On. Thud.

I remember the times when life was water,
Weaving in between set strands
Melodic like a fine tuned guitar,
Energy stored,
and then flow.

But the present make heartless
Grind. A drawn out sulk
Gives more comfort
Than this merciless banging
On sharpened nerves.

I need a break from rest.