Un-edited butterflipppits

thus far, i have been very consious of my writing and my posts. i want to please everyone and create the most beautiful writing that the world has ever known. but then it occurred to me, that the world probably wouldn't know my writing amazing or otherwise, and it seemed hypocritical to dedicate a blog to real life and edit everything i wrote. so from now on, no editing, no censoring, nothing. this is real life and sometimes life is ugly. it isn't always a flowery rhymy poem that interconnects and reveals new perspectives and insights. sometimes it is a fragment of ugly overused words, that make no sense together. macaroni, butterflippits, and scoundrel-ears.

real life

blank Peices of paper are among the most intimidating specimens in the world. they seems so clean, and fresh and full of possibility. what if this piece of paper had ended up across the world in the hands of some incredible Italian artist? is it right to pollute it with my scrawny, self-conscious words, when it could be a masterpeice in the hands of a genius?
then i remember that i'm writing my thoughts, i'm writing life. and if life isn't art, then what is?

The Flitters

First it will stop.....

then it will race,
bouncing and beating
all over the place

then it starts whirring,
a buzz in my ears
faster and faster
till sound disappears

it stumbles and stutters,
refuses to stop.....
My heart when i see you=

malfunctioning clock