tat
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
From the tips of unbridled fingers, roots of bounding thoughts run amok, spreads the depths of the deterred mind, and dances along the lines of judgment and security. It seems to happen every so often, when thoughts of the sepia and the old, come through as sharp and stinging diamonds in the skies. And as I lay down, tracing the little dots that came to be the stars of the night, I can't help but let a tear run down, and yes, it is purely sadness, not a trace of joy, or anything of that ground.
It’s only then you realise
You know little beyond another’s eyes
What you think you know is only fiction
A hopeful foolish contradiction
Etched on a stone, that is my heart, or what it's left behind, are scratches that seemed impossible, but then again, it's you, so, yeah, it's there. I will forever be punished by karma, with hanging thoughts.
smiled at the sun again @ 9:52 PM,
