Deny, delay and conspiracy of silence. The malfunctioning doctor.
All the stars and boulevard. They don't seem too enough to lit the trails in the jungle. She runs her fingers through the leaves and dews. Lost and unfounded and never meant to be found. Like the darkness. Hates the brightness of the sun. And just adore that one spectrum of ray descending through the peeks of the leaves. Perhaps the world is her own to dwell within. With voices pouring in from the rim of the forest. And all they get in return is silence in the jostling wind from within. Late night, and it's not like they didn't try finding her. But it's late it's late. Don't try coming in now. She's gone she's gone. In the moon up there. She's that imprint you stare at every time you felt that sorrow and you needed to weep it away. The stars around her, that's her origami for sanity keepsake. One for every silent scream that did not escape her lips. And Venus on her left be that only shadow she cannot push away since the beginning of time. Venus, her love.
Damn. Where did that came from? The things you write to songs. Now where's my Grays... *scrambles under the mountain of trash*
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i think my brain kena cramp d.
jolyn said...
April 26, 2009 at 8:00 PM