hypocritepoet

Where there are no cattle the manger is clean, But the power of a bull yields an abundant harvest.

Sometimes, I hate being an artist. A writer, poet and creative person. It comes with all of this baggage and passion. So much energy just coursing like adrenaline all of the time. Even when I’m calm, my mind is going 250 miles and hour. Idea after idea after dumb idea. My friend described me as manic/depressive. Maybe she’s right. Manic lasts and lasts. But then B personality gets here. And even though it’s for a short time. I just wish I was under a pile of rocks. I become Charlie Brown.