A silence on the night. The day fluttered quietly in whisper soft resonance, So many colours slowly dying Like confetti in the rain, And echoes touched each other, a reunion of themselves, As though they were astounded At their resonating
skipped rocks through a stream today the opening of a brand new day its frame is in minor decay the bleached wood massed in bone piles, we pulled it from dark beach and built fire in a fenced clearing the
Do I have a choice before knifing the page for a meaning, when I was drowned in a nostalgia? Cinchona bark. This was my keyword for living bitterly under a tryant inciting the riots of colors. The digital death comes
Away from the crowd She whispered her tale. To the cresting waves, To the frothy foam, To the flying seagulls, They knew her soul. They were waiting for her To wash her heart. She left the remains, She was carrying
Everything we know, or think we know, comes from an infinitesimal speck of time and space. “Important” people, just random specks of insignificance. Nothing more than Sea Monkeys, fluttering around Sea Monkey world. Everything spoken as truth only reinforces ignorance.