I search for truth in strange places.
An open window
halfway shut keeps me optimistic that everything around me will make sense…eventually. The air escapes inside and the sweat on my fingertips shiver with heated anticipation. And I write to find truth; to find the answers of hidden questions within my own mind. I write in Bold to express tears of laughter that cover up a pain that have bullied me for years. But now I’m fighting back with underlined run-on sentences of a built up strength only paused by a comma (,). Traffic noise argues with my thoughts…temporarily. And I write again. There’s a lot of bullshit in this world, it’s usually the bullshit I misspell…on purpose. Lies challenging every moment I think is honest; exclamation points (!) non-expressive to the heart.
I search for truth in strange places.
A trash can…
sitting empty in the corner of my room is filled with cluttered confusion. A stench lingers out and blends with the oxygen I need to think. Time can be waste and so can life when we fail to understand the little things that we are quick to throw away. Like a half written stanza on a torn piece of paper. It deserved to grow but now it makes it home in that trash can of incompleteness. And I write. To unravel thoughts into something more clear but the only clarity is within the chaotic streaming of consciousness in what we believe to be truth.
I find truth in strange places.
© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan
