Clothing censors your body -
I'm afraid of the mystery.

Your deceptive eyes censor your soul -

OooOOo! I've been dwelling on the thought of censorship today after looking at a rather disturbing drawing of a famliy without faces, only black veils where faces should be.

Your eyes veil your soul? Censor? Ahh I'm just playing with words at the moment. It's fun.

Sometimes my writing feels forced - and sometimes it flows freely. I always get really nervous right before I depart off into my 'zone', my 'place'. Sometimes I wish I could live there... and never ever come out.

The hum drum of everyday censors me -

I'm proud that I've been carrying my notebook with me wherever I go, be it my tiny moleskin or my big poetry notebook. I always have something to keep track of my little... lets just call them inclinations... obsessions.... hmmm...

I'm trying to get back to my place, but this office... its censoring me!