da82
Sometimes the hardest thing to do is believe. Sometimes it is the easiest. All I know is that belief is what fills the empty shell of life. It doesn't even matter what you believe in. Just believe in something.
Walls bouncing off of walls. Walls of sound, walls of love, walls of fear. Why do we have walls? Why do we think our human experience is so unique? Why do we think no one else is exactly what we are? Why do we know, without a doubt, that we "are?"
To bellow is to sound, but to sound from the soul. An extraction of passion. A collapsing of presence. Bellow away.
Warmth radiates from the fireplace. It's people trying to capture nature. The oddity of fire enclosed in a purely human space. A falsity is what it is. A pretender.
The light faded away giving way to the warm dusk. Shadows covered the ground where I used to sit and think about the days when I would get out of this place. I dream of the twilight in another land.
You can see all. Pan=all. Sometimes this is a blessing, sometimes it aches. Everything is overwhelming, nothing is underwhelming. Is ignorance really bliss?
Beating, ripped out. Sometimes I stay in the darkness just to feel. To make sure my heart is alive. There can be beauty in pain. There can be salvation in death.
To the left, not the right. Not the right, the wrong. Everything is wrong- nothing is as it was intended to be. We are separate, distant, trying to bridge the gap. Accomplished, but only for now.
A symphony of sounds surrounds me. Covered in music, buried in music, alive in music. There is nothing that can accomplish what music can, and that is the beauty of it. Music invigorates, sustains, stabs.
Don't stand underneath- it will be the death of you. Sliding, sliding. Sharp and dangerous. Broken.
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writing since 2011 · 13 entries · 13 days shown up
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