No-One Knows I'm Really A Blank Page
The electronic baby on the wall screeches.
I know what it means so I rise from being a spectator of the inspectors and go to replace the din.
As I predicted, I hear the blonde haired girl of the beautiful river, she speaks to me as though she is happy, but I know what lies beneath.
Much like the snow, She who is fairest though few take notice of this, I feel sad for her.
Many wonderful times and great connections to both.
But also many pains shared by all, it is sad what happens to people, people who could have been normal and happy, if not for some bad circumstances. But can we believe all that is told to us??
As there would be those who would lie to gain the affection of their peers. One, who cares for me, who has done favours for me, I feel she may be like the name of an old friend and a family of Australian foreigners, and that perhaps all that she says is not like a train of regret. I know this for certain about one who is related to her (to the displeasure of both) but not by blood, she would dare to claim things which many others have (unfortunately) experienced. She would lie on the path with reason, this makes it more believable to those who have not seen the extent to which she can damage people with her vocal slanders. She has done it to me (during a blurred brush with my past which is now an opposite of my present), and to Jaspa (although it would appear to be another victim of substance or lack of), and to many others I fear.
VANG, this confuses me the most, I have felt as though the girl of the second sea is worthy of the Horseless stab, but in these hazy days I find it sometimes hard to tell, and it is that she trusts me that makes it more like a trick and the act of connecting for me and awkward around the girl of the fourth ecstasy. This girl who was so much for me, now it is hard for me to know what I want as there are many distractions.
The beauty of the non-geometrical square is one of these distractions, as is the blonde haired girl of the beautiful river, and the snow, and the $7 liver cancer.
The snow, it would seem that what was uttered between us could never have been said if not for what kept us from contacting a spirit other than Grond and the ones ingested. A riverless green land connected us when we awoke, and the memory of my ancestors place of dwelling. The realization that there was more than just idiocy to the talkings of grass and edible money.
Yet I fear nothing will ever come of this and the blonde haired girl of the beautiful river is still there to watch me, as always, but will she always be there?
I could never know, and the snow, how things have changed with the snow. Unexpected circumstances that brought us closer together and at the same time pushed us apart, circumstances that were not only unexpected and seemingly unlikely, but also unexpected that it would be wanted, but now that it has happened there is no going back and the wanting does not pass, and the feeling does not die, it just sinks lower and lower. This sinking was realised beneath the dead scent of Christmas, with an opposite reaction to what would usually occur with tapped silver in a box.
But now nothing is the same, and I can’t feel normal and that saying of having and losing is put in reverse as now I know what I have lost.
I know what it means so I rise from being a spectator of the inspectors and go to replace the din.
As I predicted, I hear the blonde haired girl of the beautiful river, she speaks to me as though she is happy, but I know what lies beneath.
Much like the snow, She who is fairest though few take notice of this, I feel sad for her.
Many wonderful times and great connections to both.
But also many pains shared by all, it is sad what happens to people, people who could have been normal and happy, if not for some bad circumstances. But can we believe all that is told to us??
As there would be those who would lie to gain the affection of their peers. One, who cares for me, who has done favours for me, I feel she may be like the name of an old friend and a family of Australian foreigners, and that perhaps all that she says is not like a train of regret. I know this for certain about one who is related to her (to the displeasure of both) but not by blood, she would dare to claim things which many others have (unfortunately) experienced. She would lie on the path with reason, this makes it more believable to those who have not seen the extent to which she can damage people with her vocal slanders. She has done it to me (during a blurred brush with my past which is now an opposite of my present), and to Jaspa (although it would appear to be another victim of substance or lack of), and to many others I fear.
VANG, this confuses me the most, I have felt as though the girl of the second sea is worthy of the Horseless stab, but in these hazy days I find it sometimes hard to tell, and it is that she trusts me that makes it more like a trick and the act of connecting for me and awkward around the girl of the fourth ecstasy. This girl who was so much for me, now it is hard for me to know what I want as there are many distractions.
The beauty of the non-geometrical square is one of these distractions, as is the blonde haired girl of the beautiful river, and the snow, and the $7 liver cancer.
The snow, it would seem that what was uttered between us could never have been said if not for what kept us from contacting a spirit other than Grond and the ones ingested. A riverless green land connected us when we awoke, and the memory of my ancestors place of dwelling. The realization that there was more than just idiocy to the talkings of grass and edible money.
Yet I fear nothing will ever come of this and the blonde haired girl of the beautiful river is still there to watch me, as always, but will she always be there?
I could never know, and the snow, how things have changed with the snow. Unexpected circumstances that brought us closer together and at the same time pushed us apart, circumstances that were not only unexpected and seemingly unlikely, but also unexpected that it would be wanted, but now that it has happened there is no going back and the wanting does not pass, and the feeling does not die, it just sinks lower and lower. This sinking was realised beneath the dead scent of Christmas, with an opposite reaction to what would usually occur with tapped silver in a box.
But now nothing is the same, and I can’t feel normal and that saying of having and losing is put in reverse as now I know what I have lost.