Strange things.
The true monstrosity of a plain piece of paper,
or life sprouting into food,
or as we like to call it,
America.

Doodles of flying-money-caterpillars taking a snooze,
resting under the hood of angrily-passionate lists.
My thoughts on writing,
swirling messily across pages and pages.

My hopes,
My memories,
My life story,
folded up into a little rectangle,
screaming out their emotions,
wanting to jump off the page,
and spring to life.

All of my thoughts,
scribbled down onto white-lined pieces of paper,
holding the keys to the locks of my mind,
keeping the secrets,
of thoughts of all kind.

Weird ideas,
coming to life,
spreading their oddness for all to see,
just waiting,
for the right time to leave their mark.

What’s in your journal?