laying low on the half broken treadmill, constantly fleeting, moving away from the moments. where do we go next, a question hovering over all i know, but when i raise my eyes from my hands and look around, it's all beautiful faces, and i cling on to them. lay low. the little sunlight of the day sends energy through pretty colours, hail and...
the bleurgh middle of the week night feels of cool, illustrated sounds making me wonder where they all are, and what they're laughing about, the sirens of the faraway joys, far far tucked away in frowny yesterdays. pretty words added as an afterthought to hide away the petty thoughts of quick judgment and all that's playing in my head is a beat, the...
i miss the chills, and the freedom in which the head could lay to rest; the cool air cleaning out the ashes from the bones. fragile, fleeting, faraway visions of wide open time. in the midst of it a cloud of dreams in disarray, and the sun shining through it with golden magic, and the last ones in line raise their arms and...
locking myself in under the covers feels liberating, as the universe unfolds within, and the world feels desperate as it always does. scraping off the luxury leftovers off the keyboards of my mind institutions, my fingertips leave smudges on the glassy quick dry top coat lenses. closing my eyes into blindness to feel the edges of this golden cage, gold to display the...
