Blur images, convicted in clear depiction of complex matrix within scents of distorted resolution.

Savour peace in dead silence beneath glades of mistakes hatching experience in the midst of thin air.

Lost interest in frame works and found passion residing beside a sculpture, where I could glance at a bigger picture over fractions of moments.

I think; where will I be ten years from now? just to see doubt reflect the past, leaving the present in comforts of distress, life glued to the same cycle showering shame beyond hindsight of the water vapour.

Lend me a magic spell! I shout; to see a tornished, drone voice picking up its pieces where its echo refused feedback over pity that fell.
Tears dancing on the verge of my cheeks while I whisper a whistle with broken notes embracing smiles exhibiting shattered hearts.

Crosteque parallel edges linger at the fore-front, where I rest my arid eyes with samples of blood.

Longing for a conversation with an old man, with merciless intentions of stealing his wisdom under the surveillance of his novel, watchful eye.

All alone, however. Thinking of tomorrow, because with the present I've became a slave launching sparkles of doubt...I hope for a better tomorrow - Being alive is a sign of winning against a staircase of sorrow.

I hope for a better tomorrow, smiling yet again pleasing faith to dry my tears...Thanking God for another day he had to borrow.