(no subject)
Eno is gently swaying with the morning hush trying delicately not to distort the chord of silence. The air now painted with a slowgazing feel of the 80s. Ironic how an era I've never experienced manages to harvest such a purplish imprint in my head. Facing me, my coffee table- housing two cameras and three lenses and unopened bills and unwanted notices. My cup of coffee, my comrade in the dark, lies next to me- still steaming. The television is not trying to seek my attention.
Another day ended and transformed into yet another reflection-filled night. Am I losing it?
How long can these neurotic scaffolds withstand the pressure that is my volatile mind?
Happiness; am I getting a piece of that cake?
Hey midnight lizards, stop it. Stop mocking my life.
I can sense Mom's ferns nodding with agreement.
I lost track of time and space and wandered off
I had a vision that I was pulling a man out of a river
and that man was me
and that I was...
Another day ended and transformed into yet another reflection-filled night. Am I losing it?
How long can these neurotic scaffolds withstand the pressure that is my volatile mind?
Happiness; am I getting a piece of that cake?
Hey midnight lizards, stop it. Stop mocking my life.
I can sense Mom's ferns nodding with agreement.
I lost track of time and space and wandered off
I had a vision that I was pulling a man out of a river
and that man was me
and that I was...