The sound
The look
The taste
The touch
It's all a perfectly painted portrait you privately processed, patched with hope.
The certainty
The promises
As the days pass us
The roundabouts regularly revisiting rocky ravines reassure us to hold on to that rope.
The visions of fantasies
The feelings combust
Passionate portrayals with punctual pauses providing positivity to possibly promote premonitions
In truth we trust
To transcend temptations of trivial trickeries by treading on tip-toes through troubled trebutaries
To let go, seems a must.
Hallucinations from a lack of sleep, are leading me into a field of dreams. There I find that anything's possible, and nothing is really what it seems.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
The sound
The look
The taste
The touch
It's all a perfectly painted portrait you privately processed, patched with hope.
The certainty
The promises
As the days pass us
The roundabouts regularly revisiting rocky ravines reassure us to hold on to that rope.
The visions of fantasies
The feelings combust
Passionate portrayals with punctual pauses providing positivity to possibly promote premonitions
In truth we trust
To transcend temptations of trivial trickeries by treading on tip-toes through troubled trebutaries
To let go, seems a must.
Hallucinations from a lack of sleep, are leading me into a field of dreams. There I find that anything's possible, and nothing is really what it seems.
anger....worry...fear..mistrust. It's danger hurry and make it disappear, we must. Don't rush, slow down, and carefully craft guiding each piece of string unto that gown. Let the walls fall, and seize your call. Never let a moment persist in which you regret it all
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