sunset and new dawns

The subtle differences get you first. When the brain rests on a matter of habit or usual activity, only for reality to show the hole in the film. Bright light, over-exposure, yellow-white squares dotted behind the eyes…

I could have talked for hours. Maybe the expressions were of true love, of real strength beyond the throw-away sex and lust of modern times. Maybe the words built up in my heart, warmed the soul, and then…Were they heard? At one stage, all seemed much improved…But all voices must fade. The cold guilt of human memory, wrapped as nettles, damp as soil following rain, it is the guilt of our condition. This is beyind investigation.

Dreams can pull the wakening body through hoops but this is not used as a promotion for circuses available at the point of asking. Instead, my world is currently wrapped around a protective cover of religion and punchlines, framed by far-off voices inside well-thought punchlines. So sad, to witness the ultinate destintation, the final curtain call. Cold, scared, guilty, expressionate arts…Cold dark shadows behind the eyes…Summer sunset drips to a close. See you soon

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