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2008-04-16 | |
If you think and take it out of context
â¦there are no details, just unvoiced spots
There are no mirrors to evaluate yourself
nor ambiguous faces to assemble your life on.
There are blurry grey balloons or
one season for the four now.
Looking from a top, thereâs no water
merely smoke, no people in sight, purely lost ants
circling around a ball.
There is no feeling, all beauty vanishes.
Now, âlook for inside personaâ, whatâs that?
Where are we? And what the hell is going on?
What has she done to go so high,
where nothingness prevails taking ripeness as it is.
Whatâs life? Yeah, right!
Where are the colours? That might work.
Fading to black, then merely a white spot of spacious warmth.
Pardon me, no heatâ¦stillness, peace and lack of desperation.
Friday, 1a April 2008
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