How could one understand my words? Make sense of the ramblings which flood my head and spill onto these pages in chaos. They are everywhere, connections, fragments, meaningless words which form songs which sing in tunes and harmonies that I choose to ignore. Until the sounds become to loud.
Here they are flowing as a river. Not raging, nor tranquil. They are littered.
Here they sing as a breeze. Not gentle, nor harsh. They simply drift, and still they make no matter, no matter how I choose to ignore, or create, they are and always will be here. A blessing, which I shun, and with that is my punishment.
How can one understand my words? I guess they make sense to me.
Can you hear them?