I close this moleskin as I began it.
The questions I ask are not answered and beg for more pages.
I will bleed ink for my future that much is certain.
I will continue to listen completely to the noise and conversation around me.
I will keep an oral history going until the lies become my truth.
I will scribble the sense of it when I can.
My life is filled with music, art, love, romance, and drunk nights of regret.
My life is filled and so this notebook reflects my contradictions and my surrender.
I cry out for more pages.
I earn my daily wage to continue my quest for one true sentence.
My life is a story,
and it is broken down into moments of disenchantment.
I attempt to capture those moments with these pages,
With no camera and no painters canvas.
I love the random words my moleskin holds onto forever, and surrender nothing less than perfection of my lines I walk right now.
Jobs and cubicles, romance and forgiveness, lovely women and the breasts I take a playful nibble of shall speak my truth forever.
This moleskin is my forbidden apple, and tonight I allow you to take a bite out of the first draft.