A Wrinkle in Time Current mood: argumentative Category: Writing and Poetry
What is this between my ears other than a wrinkly mass of misunderstanding?
…nothing more than a pour of muscle to reiterate the idea of life heard.
Only felt in between the lines.
What am I other than the difference of the time I have spent with myself
and the time that I have spent with others?
I have spent that time, exactly, because it sure wasn't free..
it has cost me a 20 years of time:
a six pence for a bushel:
a lifetimefor nothing;
and now the wrinkles are smoothed out by the life that was spread in the volumes of the mass of misunderstanding.
Even the writing that escapes has to be thought about so intently
that it escapes so slowly.
And as soon as I read it,
I feel as if it is not me
and then I realize that life is nothing more than a wrinkle..