no where.mission top secret, destination unknown.Aimlessly wandering pastscenes of black and white.An unending reel hopelesslytrapped, spinning away.Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door...Same faces. Same situation.Played over and over again.Routine. Routine. Routine.The monotony screams in desperation,forcefully breaking away in a patheticattempt to rescue itself from itself.Suddenly, it's set itself ablaze, in its moment of great fervor-- all thirty six millimeters....jump right out and count to four.The reel slows to a halt, letting fallremnants of the monotony and flecks of ash.It's over. Time for another.
remnants of what wasWhen yesterday is no longer but a shadow of today and tomorrow becomes the light that illuminates the hopes and dreams of the heart... it is then that one truly lives.
taps.What makes the grass grow?That crimson, forcefully spilled with shards of metallic cold,in a place where the fiery Hell meets with the earth.So the answer goes...Soaking up lost hopes and futures for reasons distorted in shouts of cadence,these blades once green now that sickly scarlet.water. that's the essence that which gives life. would it not be better to water with what gives life rather than with the essence of life itself?
shades.There is no rainbow for me,to pave the way and guidethis tattered, tired soul back.Stumbling over clouds of gray,wandering farther and fartheraway from the warming glow.The darkness surrounds me,taking me into its cold embrace,feeding upon my growing loneliness.My hands, they have lost their touch.My feet no longer carry my steps.There is no resistance. No more fight.Left to the vices of sweet solitude, the void pulls me forward (or backward?)toward the end of the beginning.There is no rainbow for me, to leadme back to where this soul yearns to be.The eyes, tainted and corrupted by thelies society fed, they
Sta.sh
