Sunday, December 6, 2009

Cookies

Isn't it funny how much easier poetry is when either in the depth of despair or at the peak of bliss?

How do you draw inspiration from quiet mediocrity?

Theres no depth in hours spent working through frustrating matrix problems, and if there is any simple beauty to be admired in this room familiarity has long since tempered it.

I digress, perhaps there is inherent beauty in even the most mundane workings of a-oooh look shiny!

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