the soft snow was falling on my head. my nose felt stiff and noiseless. the trees were barren and all i could hear was an enigmatic tune playing in the background that varied in intensity.
i looked over my left shoulder and caught a half glimpse of a girl in a red dress dancing in a circle. she was a ballerina of course, for this was the cliche image of all images.
and there she was, dancing to this enigmatic tune. and there i was, watching in awe.
there was no reason to disrupt a moment such as this. only the moment to seize and watch in awe. she was happy; and i observed that. the snow was delighted.
so i continued to watch her.
Yours
what are we but a faceless mas by jeffhx, literature
Literature
what are we but a faceless mas
what are we but a faceless mask in the company of others that fuels our own self-discontentment following the social pressures of adherence to any degree.to be truly free is to break all rules and cannibalize one's own conscience; a process upon which one finds that the moral force is merely a conjurence of fantasy
and there he sat, cool and cal by jeffhx, literature
Literature
and there he sat, cool and cal
and there he sat, cool and calm. centred in approach and somewhat reticent as he watches like a hawk. every punctuation in the wind, grass and rain unjudged and so was his sanity. slowly he gets peeled away like the layers of an onion. the sirens whom sing in his mind reduced to mere undecipherable echoes bouncing among the crags and nooks in his brain. a graceful woman lavishly draped in white, thin silk dances about in the dark abyss seemingly mute and divine. a story that unraveled itself within this space reduced to a silence untapped before. the same silence that is irrefutable, permanent and had always been.
slowly the song of the sire
he pulled me out of the shed, into a forested clearing. it was raining heavily and the moment we stepped out we were drenched.
'it's not the question about whether or not we are on drugs! it is not even about who we aspire to be!'
he sat down on the muddy ground next to me with a splash. it was a relaxed form of landing where his ego was being flushed and drained out by the rainwater into the deep reccesses of the ground.
'when you know,', he paused as he wiped rainwater off his face. 'you simply know irrespective of indulgent behaviours. irrespective of its effects because you are smart enough to know of its insignificant biological effec
the soft snow was falling on my head. my nose felt stiff and noiseless. the trees were barren and all i could hear was an enigmatic tune playing in the background that varied in intensity.
i looked over my left shoulder and caught a half glimpse of a girl in a red dress dancing in a circle. she was a ballerina of course, for this was the cliche image of all images.
and there she was, dancing to this enigmatic tune. and there i was, watching in awe.
there was no reason to disrupt a moment such as this. only the moment to seize and watch in awe. she was happy; and i observed that. the snow was delighted.
so i continued to watch her.
Yours
and there he sat, cool and cal by jeffhx, literature
Literature
and there he sat, cool and cal
and there he sat, cool and calm. centred in approach and somewhat reticent as he watches like a hawk. every punctuation in the wind, grass and rain unjudged and so was his sanity. slowly he gets peeled away like the layers of an onion. the sirens whom sing in his mind reduced to mere undecipherable echoes bouncing among the crags and nooks in his brain. a graceful woman lavishly draped in white, thin silk dances about in the dark abyss seemingly mute and divine. a story that unraveled itself within this space reduced to a silence untapped before. the same silence that is irrefutable, permanent and had always been.
slowly the song of the sire
he pulled me out of the shed, into a forested clearing. it was raining heavily and the moment we stepped out we were drenched.
'it's not the question about whether or not we are on drugs! it is not even about who we aspire to be!'
he sat down on the muddy ground next to me with a splash. it was a relaxed form of landing where his ego was being flushed and drained out by the rainwater into the deep reccesses of the ground.
'when you know,', he paused as he wiped rainwater off his face. 'you simply know irrespective of indulgent behaviours. irrespective of its effects because you are smart enough to know of its insignificant biological effec
Current Residence: Australia, Melbourne Favourite genre of music: instrumental, folk, acoustic,classical,psychedelic, beat, JAAZZZZ Favourite style of art: traditional painting, literature Favourite cartoon character: my ever amazing stick dude
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