There’s no untoward faithfulness pacing down corridors to prey upon timid souls.Only the sound of silence enters as a ghost and disappears with the setting of the noon day sun.
Lovely visions of melodic poetry strutting around, finding places among notes and rhythms being played and exercised.Fingering emotions as pictures form exclusively in mind-packed images.
reflecting thoughts as they are written in prose,coded throughout and sent straight to hearts,waiting for novel ideas.
Laughter dies, sits upon a spine of nerveless messages, awaiting universal connections.
trying to keep out of the spotlight.On sides of rhythm, going faster thanany race horse traveling down thestraight away.Falsely proving an amount of steadypacing, then going off on a tangent.Provoking an amount of energetic spasms,as they fall away.
Looking out tear-stained windows, no reprieve in sight, all visions breaking through have no reasoning of why I’m hurting.