the prints that are inside of the patterns are what flatter me. what keep me. what leave me. what come to me. what attract me. it's the prints that are in the patterns. and if only i could create my own pattern that communicated something new to you, to them, to us all, that has never been seen or known or touched before, i'd give it a try. i'd like a pen that scribed new patterns for my mind to understand each day, that is creative. that is free. that is spontaneous. i love solids, don't get me wrong. but they don't excite me the same way the the prints inside of the patterns do. because they are so bland. so mundane. always communicating the same thing. that's why i swim in an oasis of love located in the middle of the desert, where i can't be found, where the prints that are inside of the patterns cannot be found. it's beautiful out here. in here. and i would blast the moon with star bullets if someone would even dare try to take away the patterns that drip from my newly created felt tip pen. i would create them with feathers and pieces of the cloud to distinctly formulate prints that are inside of the patterns that no one will ever know, that they never knew. just be honest. how long do you think i could go on about the difference between the prints that are found inside of different patterns and solids? forever may not meet the tip of my tongue.
patterns are like habits, they repeat themselves. but if i could create this pattern, it would break the reputation of bad habits, bad patterns. life is worth living.
