She calls it "Soiree for the Somber"; where clowns dance and fools are golden. They speak often with their severed tongues and only on occasion do their hearts beat. I am there. Where she is. And soon our bodies will die of lonely deaths; funerals for coffins. Our minds are where masks go to cry, except there are no tears; only smiles. A museum, where there was once paradise, of drowning arts and melted portraits. Look at these walls and songs of diamond, here we pledge allegiance to the Play. I can feel the air is thickened, thickened with liquor; the atmosphere carries miscounted steps. Listen. Hear it. The noises in the night, the mourning of the sad. Here is where we pledge allegiance
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
She calls it "Soiree for the Somber"; where clowns dance and fools are golden. They speak often with their severed tongues and only on occasion do their hearts beat. I am there. Where she is. And soon our bodies will die of lonely deaths; funerals for coffins. Our minds are where masks go to cry, except there are no tears; only smiles. A museum, where there was once paradise, of drowning arts and melted portraits. Look at these walls and songs of diamond, here we pledge allegiance to the Play. I can feel the air is thickened, thickened with liquor; the atmosphere carries miscounted steps. Listen. Hear it. The noises in the night, the mourning of the sad. Here is where we pledge allegiance
...No beginning and no end...