Sunday, November 08, 2009

tabula rasa

clean. the slate black, is clean. at least to grey.

cleaned by fate and officiated by circumstances. this higher cleaning orchestrated by fate and his cohorts seemed a blessing. so far, this disguise is a facade that might turn out to be a veil for catastrophe. pessimism is a cyclic chord that strikes the notes of my reasoning.

still, my tabula rasa is better than yours. like tabular data all arranged. like taste buds melting quasars of a million colloquial notions turned into "rasa".

i pray. if this turns the way it should be. i am made. like how good desserts are made. triple layered or more. crusted and thin crusted. cheesed. chocolate-dipped. strawberries, blueberries, wildberries abundant. bite-sized. caramelized. sponged. buttery. sweet essenced. multi-coloured sprinkles. suprise centered.

starting anew is the new black

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