Floating in the dust of my dreams is a shadow that guides me. It is not entity or being, merely essence. The very fabric of its soul is a diamond fog that, when touched ripples an echo of golden coins upon a gypsy's hip.
The jingle carries on past ear and worn smile. Things are better now... one would hope... A joining of souls to make one stronger has successfully entered the rings of gold. A love built up from alternative motives creates the foundation of the only stable structure of my life. Is this house built on mud or mountain?
So many whispers linger, murmurs, fragments of words lost from a world with moments of speechless. Moments of silence... from moments of sorrow. So rare has my mouth been still for an occurrence that warms the heart instead of shattering it. When will my breath be stolen by an act so overwhelmingly selfless and romantic. It takes acquired mind to taste this wine. My life, breathing in the warm breath, salty springs split open my mind. I've tried so hard and now... I run? I can't see... the walls are worn and cold... I've been here before, I can feel the shallow path.
I am going nowhere and nowhere is following me. Mocking is simple and stupid as such but it breaks me. I think I need the darkness to survive... everything plays like a symphony and sounds like a dream. Everything I touch needs it's own note, so I can
create angelic music. Put these worries and fears to sleep. Mortality is the half of the dream in which we bleed, we know what it is like to be dead already... forget that one powerful being. It is nothing but a dream. Sometimes the dreamer is aware... those are the best. When you can control the circumstances. A dead boy told me once that people shouldn't be so scared...
The frigid warmth and searing chill, do you feel it up your spine? Body relaxing, a force field of a tingly sense of gravity giving you s sense of freedom. Limbs of emptiness, heavy vision. Do you hear the music?
A babble of metaphors... to make me feel like I am anything at all. Dark words on light parchment... does not put the sensation back. Nothingness and everything mixed together makes my glass half empty until it is half full again.
I guess I am under the weather... since no one belongs here with me.
I wonder, I wonder.
I worry too much and care to little. A new fashion of apathy pumps through my veins. One slip of the tongue and it will crumble. One slip of will power and it will crumble. There is more int he world I need to explore. Surely it isn't my destiny to sit here and slowly rot away.
For now I play in the dark with my mind, narrating every action, curious if I can feel anything at all.
