There's a burning01:11 Jan 15 2011
Times Read: 469
eight times waved, twice removed, three times seen, x remembrances.
the variable isn't the important part, but in a painting without purpose, it's all that matters.
Chrysanthemums don't know their names, butterflies prance around through the sky drawn by abstract vibrations felt by the only sense they know. how artistic it must be to be a butterfly.
Left with no way to ascertain meaning, left with no idea as to what meaning might mean, creation is imminent, happening. Creation is alive, expression exists only as an indicator. Did i tell you, once i saw a gorilla paint the meaning of love, as far as it could understand.
Doubt is constant, truth is a scarce, flickering light. Even in the dark, what was seen in the light remains ingrained into memory, and what an awful, beautiful picture it painted.
Plastic faces know only one name, one expression. Guards are only worthwhile if there's an attack that will come if it isn't there, otherwise, it acts as an instigator. provocation is as real as the red mark on a recently challenged face, as tangible as the sound of the offending glove hitting the floor.
The sky is clear in my mind, but outside the overcast lights a threatening world.
The sun came out, birds sing. The wind howls, and how it hates me.
Cold tastes the flesh of the world during it's afternoon picnic.
reality is a dream, but the opposite is equally true, if that's the name of the game.
"For above our heads are the icy heights that contain all reason"~ The Shins
COMMENTS
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Silverhawk
14:29 Feb 05 2011
your writing strikes and indelible chord within myself...it pleases me to read it.
Silverhawk
14:30 Feb 05 2011
your writing strikes and indelible chord within myself...it pleases me to read it.