The pointless irrational cloud, gone bad after the collision of some winter caves drawn aside by waves on thick nothingness, relating to the unfortunate faith of a precious gem drop which is no more.
A deer, making it`s path through the rough roads of green, doesn`t know how to handle a candle, even small as it is, the poor thing. Whom does it feed on?
Maybe the trunks are now filled with red bloody cream juice of the forests. Yes, that must be it, the beavers rolled up a dam, creating a diversion for the unworldly creatures of the mist, the path finding things that are no longer.
Coming to an end, the crumb becomes unfortunate, not because it`s cold outside, but because it doesn`t matter anymore. The true meaning of it, finds it`s origins into the hard soiled path of heaven.
A great shadow
on Tuesday 31 January 2012
From the surface of my dreams
Lies a great white shadow
Trying not make the means
By dancing on it's meadow
On the verge of passing by
From this deep mind sorrow
But what is sorrow, what am I?
When there is no tomorrow.
Lies a great white shadow
Trying not make the means
By dancing on it's meadow
On the verge of passing by
From this deep mind sorrow
But what is sorrow, what am I?
When there is no tomorrow.
Ship to Las Vegas
on Monday 30 January 2012
I wake up on a ship, with no idea of how I got there or what I was doing before that, ever. I remember seeing a middle-aged man, with a thick beard and a white, poor looking cap. He was staring at me, then he started talking. He said something about this and that but I was still in a state of shock and didn't understand a thing or two of what he said.
The whole setting was colored in a reddish, eerie color, but it was making me feel good, for some reason. I look at the man again, he was still talking. I notice that we are not alone on that ship, two other men were there as well. They were young, kind of like me I might say. Somehow they looked familiar. But no. It is just my mind playing tricks on me.
The whole setting was colored in a reddish, eerie color, but it was making me feel good, for some reason. I look at the man again, he was still talking. I notice that we are not alone on that ship, two other men were there as well. They were young, kind of like me I might say. Somehow they looked familiar. But no. It is just my mind playing tricks on me.
White Wasteland Prince
on Sunday 29 January 2012
It's Wednesday, the 25th. One month has passed since Christmas and exactly 25 days since the new year has started. Some say it is the final year, the year when the human species will disappear from the surface of Earth. I can not agree, but who am I to think that this world wide paranoia doesn't have grounds to it. But this is besides the point. This is not my worst fear.
After I wake up, in a rather good mood for some reason, I procrastinate for a while under my sheets, thinking of nonsense and emptiness. I finally get out of my comfy bed and look out the window. Everything is covered in white, to the point that I cannot believe my eyes. Could this really be reality? Has this city, this controversial metropolis, moved to Siberia somehow? The answer to that question is: Yes.
After 2 months of winter have passed, with maybe 2 flakes of snow falling, it finally happened. In one night, the whole city was covered with 50 centimeters of snow, becoming a clear deep white.
I loved it. Snow somehow makes me feel like home, although I don't know why. Maybe it reminds me of my childhood. Maybe I was born in the North Pole and a pack of wolves brought me far, to this European wasteland. But that doesn't matter. It is not the issue here.
After I wake up, in a rather good mood for some reason, I procrastinate for a while under my sheets, thinking of nonsense and emptiness. I finally get out of my comfy bed and look out the window. Everything is covered in white, to the point that I cannot believe my eyes. Could this really be reality? Has this city, this controversial metropolis, moved to Siberia somehow? The answer to that question is: Yes.
After 2 months of winter have passed, with maybe 2 flakes of snow falling, it finally happened. In one night, the whole city was covered with 50 centimeters of snow, becoming a clear deep white.
I loved it. Snow somehow makes me feel like home, although I don't know why. Maybe it reminds me of my childhood. Maybe I was born in the North Pole and a pack of wolves brought me far, to this European wasteland. But that doesn't matter. It is not the issue here.
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