Am I creepy for the things I love?
I’m glued to words,
stuck inside yearning
for life’s interpretations.
longing for giant love in words.
I love photos, too, weird portraits.
I don’t love gardening.
American Culture, Art, Depression, Failure, Fear, Idealism, Isolation, Poems, Poetry, Purpose, recovery, Spirituality
This entry was posted on June 15, 2011, 1:33 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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#1 by sixthsymph on June 15, 2011 - 1:54 pm
I often ask myself that same question you ask in the first line. I think the answer is ‘yes’ – this extreme attachment is hard to deal with.
#2 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 10:28 pm
I don’t think it’s the right question, but it seems to come up often. Write it down and get rid of it? 🙂
#3 by pattisj on June 15, 2011 - 2:05 pm
Not creepy at all. Each of us was uniquely made and have something to offer. Not everyone is a writer, or a gardener, etc.
#4 by Carl on June 15, 2011 - 10:29 pm
Thank you, Patti. You are right. We need to feel comfortable in our skin, whatever the skin is.
#5 by Kay Camden on June 16, 2011 - 9:59 am
I love peeling the protective plastic cover off new electronics. I think you have no reason to feel creepy. It’s all relative.
#6 by Carl on June 16, 2011 - 10:27 pm
Yes it is all relative, and that makes me thing that there could be some very creepy things out there…
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