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AfterMy mind is an overcast day. I wait for the clouds to pile up. I smoke and steam, praying that one day the clouds will grow heavy and dark. Then, the storms come, thunder and lightning, and blessed rain, scalding and chilling. Water slicks the streets and after, the sky will clear, pure and bright, releasing me to think and to see. I don't know if this is a good idea. I fear the storm is death. Do I try to sweep the clouds away, a more difficult method of enlightenment, but one that does not bait the reaper? My clouds have yet to swell or subside. My mind is stagnant; thoughts, lazy humid evenings. The sun is setting and the wholeAfter
by ~ether-placebo
24 mars 07My room has many doors. The walls are white. For two weeks, I have been trying to paint them red.24 mars 07
I don't have any paint. Through one of these doors, I know I can find some. Which door? They are unmarked, and all look the same. Doors in the walls, the ceiling, the floor.
I have many windows, but I can't look through them. They wouldn't tell me what's beyond which door anyway.
There is only one way out of here. That is to paint the walls red.
Sometimes, their pupils fill the windows. I don't know what they're thinking. I assume they are waiting for me to open my veins for them. I will do no s
by ~ether-placebo
10 March 2007Today, I tumbled through time, stagnant for my wasted years. I dulled bright eyes and suck sweet smiles with my empty snarl. Before falling to the end of this bottomless pit, I collided with numerous thick, hard, blunt objects. Among these things there happened to be a man. He was moderate in his extremes save the swell of his extremities. As our flesh bruised flesh my mind exploded with a stunning spread of stars. Was it true love, or merely our skulls impacting? The clocks around me ticked and tocked as I fell further into the void, my lover lost to gravity's grievious games.10 March 2007
by ~ether-placebo
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Devious Info
- Interests: flesh and death
- Favourite band or musician: placebo
- Favourite artist: foo swee chin
- Tools of the Trade: caffiene and paranoia
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