I've always wondered,
why do I want this?
"It's not mine" is the answer
Why would I want to know what's beneath others' heads, minds?
Simple
Plain
Strong
Curiosity.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
Was it a tiny coloured line,
was it a black endless nothing.
A bunch of lights, twisted, flipped and drifting
A mass of them, and among this nothigness, a shadow
It had its own charisma,
its own shape
its own personality
It shined, though black
It crumbled, though strong,
and jumped, cheerful,
but it was far,
and the brief and narrow coloured line widened
Days went by, so did people
Did friends, did more than friends, did girlfriends
None of them, full or empty, fulfilled that shape
Nor did they dislike me
I even loved some,
but I didn't
And when I found her,
the woman in the shadow shape,
dreamed I in peace
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
Such was him
Behind those bars
He knew of a much further land
Sun red as blood, snow not that white
Not an inch of dust would filter through
Not a single memorie would find him,
there where he was,
deep down.
Though, he coud have, somehow,
might have asked,
"what shall be my sin, dear guard?
That, the one, to me unknown,
which my dreams far away from me hides?"
"Never mind" said the armoured man;
"why should know such a lowlife,
why should know such a piece of trash,
values him nothing more than living, the clues to
his crimes?"
Might he never be back to his country,
might never again see that red sun,
though for sure
Shall he never rest among dust.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC