Friday, December 14, 2007

Adhesive American Insight.

It may be through caffeinated hallucinations or intense observations but my eyes stumbled across an odd sight. Driving south, back to a box in which I live. Down for occupation. Anyways, during my travels I followed a Ford Taurus that I crept behind due to slow paced wheels. I spent the clock ticks scanning the rear of this automobile. Located on the bumper was a sticker. I couldn't make out what was on it for a while until I squinted among shorter distance. It said "These colors don't run" located next to an image of the American flag. The colors were nearly faded completely and the edges of the sticker were torn and frayed. Could this be symbolic. To my eyes at this point, everything was. America stood strong with Red White and Blue... in their minds. But these colors have faded and decayed. People don't have the respect they once held. I thought it was rather funny to see a car which chose to pose a fight for patriotism. However, left this adhesive paper to symbolize what once was. A nation that was dominant to a ruin we choose to fall upon our knees. Could this be a metaphor to what we have become? A mere change of heart by the civilization that held together for democracy? Support is failing, where do we fall? The people have chose ignorance to replace unity... when will we find those colors buried in the sand? They may not run but they sure do fade... someone must repaint this empire. Guide the blind through the dark. Hold the hands of children lost. Are these opening eyes? or traveling stares? What once faded over time can be saved. fixed. awaken. For once, stop... look around.
Could this be true?

Maybe I think too much. or maybe others think too little.

Sunday, December 2, 2007


I am streaming off of the energy that i have consumed. In hopes that this education may be pursued. Instead, i have been distracted by ADD technology creating a reason this insomniac may never fall asleep. So i tip toe among pages of personalities and memories, like an ice cream truck i creep. There is little to none motivation to my continuance of succession. I rather put my gawking eyes towards peoples lives. Feel as if there is a car crash among my computer screen and i cant help but stare. With the finality of my fate, I wish with more conviction i could care. Leave me alone online corruption, i need to work among my scholarly desires and you are a mere interruption. Please let me be a saint, then when i conclude i can be quaint. There should be less creativity towards my life. For this obsession of media is causing me much strife.