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a sea of confusion. no rays of
understanding. wandering down hallways aimlessly. pay the
monkey a quarter and he'll let you pass. i don't remember
what i used to, i never knew how to do most of what they
ask. the doubts echo in a clouded room within the heart
and soul. she looks at me that way. each and every
blessed word falls from her lips like morning dewdrops,
only slightly tainted. fear makes the children cry.
playing ball on a summer's day, skipping through fields
of sunflower.
staring at the moon can be relaxing. the butterfly, fresh from its cocoon, pauses. nighttime is always the most tranquil, hiding tears and wounds. she rests in the arms of the beloved. none of the thoughts coherent, none of them flowing. the waves hit the boat, a storm brewing on the horizon. it doesn't make any sense, it never did and never will. if you have the time you can hear the grasshopper playing violin, he plays for free. |
2000 Omnicon Productions who are we? III |
{d}esign {h}ome {n}ews {e}xplore {i}mpression {r}andom |
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