Pictures Of A New Book:: Page Forty One

When does writing daily become outside communication? The same time that writing daily finds a way to speak you through bad adventures. Journaling is a man's way of saying, "I keep a diary." Sometimes I document. To make marks. This is where I stood. Not too tall. But I showed up. All too often I brag. I search for tomorrow. Barely realizing I didn't locate yesterday. As of late. These words that leap from my right hand. Have been placed onto. Into. Within... the living breathing threads that connect a sheet of paper's soul to my imagination. Two scenes my character's didn't live. I did! But without doubt. It seemed to fit better inside. On top of. Along with their every step. Who then? Am I? They or them? Might I have been? Even if for a moment. In the presence. Sitting not with. But in them. Mind blowing isn't this current book I write titled Scrambled Eggs. I write radio commercials for a living. I study the art of persuasion. Mind blowing are the faces I become. Or should I have written? Who I am. When being I is truly spelled e.y.e.