There might be some truth
in the beauty of my images,
my imagination, my savior
from enjoying lovelessness
too much.
There might be a kind of
person who
would mirror my thoughts
in a different skin
and that could be bliss.
There might be a field,
wide and sunny, with
the armor of intellect
crashing with purpose,
both so strong,
the ground never shakes,
never moves.
An image.
Frightening, how perfect it is.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
There might be some truth
in the beauty of my images,
my imagination, my savior
from enjoying lovelessness
too much.
There might be a kind of
person who
would mirror my thoughts
in a different skin
and that could be bliss.
There might be a field,
wide and sunny, with
the armor of intellect
crashing with purpose,
both so strong,
the ground never shakes,
never moves.
An image.
Frightening, how perfect it is.
