magic_fella
...I see...
Don't mind mists have a way of transforming themselves into swirling whispers...even as you're watching them? They obscure what you need to see and melt it ever so gently into what you WANT to see...until nothing is true...
...have you ever looked inside yourself and seen only your own reflection, pale and confused, peering back?
Have you ever glared at the heavens, raging at them -- crying out, screaming, through the locked fury of your heart: "What the HELL?"
...or looked on compromised kindness in the face of a child you once loved and known in the core of you that they have burrowed themselves too deep in the easy darkness...and now they've fallen...too far? Too...far...and it will/can/WILL never be the same again...
...speaking of which: what sound would a sighing heart make? Would it come out like a sob...or would it be the very ESSENCE of uncompromised resignation?
...and what about the ideas and dreams that crash around in your mind, lumbering into each other like mindless sparks of desolate inspiration? What are they for?...
...and what am I for...?
...and why EXACTLY is it so hard to comprehend the obvious? What EXACTLY mists the obvious in that shit grinning death shroud...
...when friends die where do they go? Will you EVER again be able to hold their hand or take a walk on a crunchy fall afternoon under a dying summer sun? Will you ever be able to talk (quietly) with them again...?
...and why are REAL friends so FEW... so hard to find? And why do so few of them stay? Were they EVER actually...y'know...REAL? Do they just get tired of hanging around...is it me? Is it them? Or is there just some cosmic Friend Quota that is...obvious... to everyone else?
Have you ever looked up at the heavens with your hands hanging limp by your sides and softly whispered into thundering silence: "What the...hell?"
...I see...
Don't mind mists have a way of transforming themselves into swirling whispers...even as you're watching them? They obscure what you need to see and melt it ever so gently into what you WANT to see...until nothing is true...
...have you ever looked inside yourself and seen only your own reflection, pale and confused, peering back?
Have you ever glared at the heavens, raging at them -- crying out, screaming, through the locked fury of your heart: "What the HELL?"
...or looked on compromised kindness in the face of a child you once loved and known in the core of you that they have burrowed themselves too deep in the easy darkness...and now they've fallen...too far? Too...far...and it will/can/WILL never be the same again...
...speaking of which: what sound would a sighing heart make? Would it come out like a sob...or would it be the very ESSENCE of uncompromised resignation?
...and what about the ideas and dreams that crash around in your mind, lumbering into each other like mindless sparks of desolate inspiration? What are they for?...
...and what am I for...?
...and why EXACTLY is it so hard to comprehend the obvious? What EXACTLY mists the obvious in that shit grinning death shroud...
...when friends die where do they go? Will you EVER again be able to hold their hand or take a walk on a crunchy fall afternoon under a dying summer sun? Will you ever be able to talk (quietly) with them again...?
...and why are REAL friends so FEW... so hard to find? And why do so few of them stay? Were they EVER actually...y'know...REAL? Do they just get tired of hanging around...is it me? Is it them? Or is there just some cosmic Friend Quota that is...obvious... to everyone else?
Have you ever looked up at the heavens with your hands hanging limp by your sides and softly whispered into thundering silence: "What the...hell?"