(no subject)
Little dots on the textured wall is all the headlights leave behind. And if you stepped into that cone, you would not leave much behind either. Fragmented personalities somehow seem to dissipate into the vortexes we leave behind us, drawing nearer into an imaginary triangle this gloomy darkness that knows no escape.
...
and with the first rays of sunlight
a veil of mist is drawn
across the scarred land we dive
and try to keep our breath hopelessly
hoping to emerge on the other side why
can't we just hold hands end
...
More trust within red. Why didn't I stop there.
...
Music is wise - no word is spoken
...
This is made up
...
...
and with the first rays of sunlight
a veil of mist is drawn
across the scarred land we dive
and try to keep our breath hopelessly
hoping to emerge on the other side why
can't we just hold hands end
...
More trust within red. Why didn't I stop there.
...
Music is wise - no word is spoken
...
This is made up
...