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It's really confusing sometimes when I don't pour out myself . Many ask why I just stay in, and be cold like a stone when it comes to me. It's simple, my answer..
all that is or ever was is but a dream within a dream. -edgar allen poe but what if you wake up from that dream. what if you see the dream and you are awake.
Don't you hate it when the world suddenly feels like its turning against you. Like a week ago, you felt that it was all going so right, and now it's going so wrong. But then, what is wrong.
I thought of the night, as a symbol of wrong It's cold hands wrapped tight, until the birds' morning song And people will tell you, of the danger that lurks While the sun gets its rest, it's evil...
How do we know that things will ever end. How do we know that when we think things will end... And that things will ever cease to be. That once we think it is all over, it won't finish.
I used to have such a scientific mind.
Even in this place of work No inspiration springs to mind. The clock hands move across their face Documenting time With the whiskers Of the Cheshire Cat.
I do not hate humans, though i do disagree with my race. Most humans are only prepared to see what's in front of them instead of what's beyond them.
We grow past time. We will be a different person in future compared to our youth. Thus I am no exactly who I am. We are changing and growing.
Does anyone else, Feel Time slip Away. As if the hour you thought, Is really a day.
The world goes by, Pain, suffering, persecution, life and death. It matters not to this spinning top of life, It is there to revolve and revolve it does. Sunrise after sunrise.
The moment when, after many years of hard work and a long voyage you stand in the centre of your room, house, half-acre, square mile, island, country, Knowing at last how you got there, and say I own...
When I wake up the sky will be blue,. My mind will be clear from thinking of you,. Sins will be wiped from the face of the earth,. Guns won't exist; not even a neurf,.
Oh, how very different this is, A game I sincerely miss, A mysterious power, Like a deep purple flower, How it takes hold around That dark muscle that pounds, How it gives every step some sparkling...
The final frontier of desperate hope, The King and his men are the priests and their Pope, For it goes without saying that looks are deceiving, That lambs can be lions and arrivals are leaving.
One Word Story (explanation) This is my attempt at "abstract art" through words. Enjoy this long ass explanation/rant. Hope I don't come across as pretentious or something.
As I was lying there on my back, the soft prickles of grass touching my bare arms, I looked up at the sun shining through the gaps between leaf and branch.
Does anybody actually like think about the world and everything like how things are just accepted or how we could be a person but not like 'be'.
What is life without breath. Without the heart that beats in our chest, Without the blood that runs through our veins, What is life. I do exclaim. What is life if not to love.
Do trees have souls. I have never been told Seeds blown down wind Birds eat and insects Germinate and increase growth rate.
Why. Why must life me so unfair, with so much hate, and despair. Why must people die, people cry, people lie. Why can a soul never be free. Why do the tools of oppression capture you and me.
What if the world was a cube. What if that cube of life and beautiful things had eight points that held a mountain in each.
Everything we've done up to this point has bought us to where we are in fashion music art and dance in feeding morals arsony in drugs and teeth and fruit and sharks in thin red wine in coffins law in...
Would you destroy something perfect to make it beautiful. Watch it fall apart at the seams only to be repaired in an unorthodox manor.