A small space dedicated to the unsatisfactory imitation and substitute. A shield, a cover, camouflage, streetlights, bent knees and bloody fingers, billboards and pills. The degradation of eyesight and fallible understanding of concrete.
Water on the wings of a moth near the flame and, you, only, come closer.
Friday, December 19, 2008
paper trees
i create. my medium has no choice... for it is mine to manipulate.
oh night divine. create some sort of happiness. tomorrow i will wake and run to somewhere new. this consciousness we experience, we are every bit of it. a futile existence we must embrace...i pour another bourbon...and i see the figure of a man...a simple silhouette. he melts into my glass.
I really liked your post, and your comment even more. "a simple silhouette. he melts into my glass." That is great. I think my own silhouette sometimes seems to melt into a glass of bourbon.
2 comments:
oh night divine.
create some sort of happiness.
tomorrow i will wake
and run to somewhere new.
this consciousness we experience,
we are every bit of it.
a futile existence we must embrace...i pour another bourbon...and i see the figure of a man...a simple silhouette.
he melts into my glass.
i spend time with my family
I really liked your post, and your comment even more.
"a simple silhouette.
he melts into my glass."
That is great. I think my own silhouette sometimes seems to melt into a glass of bourbon.
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