March 18, 2009

A taste of deception broadens the already vast tale of what the warming breeze has in store for spring. The vernal equinox approaches quickly; cycles continue with contempt. We are this continuum, constantly swelling up hopes that far surpass our worth. Epics are still logged after many centuries of change, but their worth only travels as far as literature can be conveyed: the written word is only eternal in the breath of life.

Peculiar, how language strengthens and fortifies the mind but leaves the body in deception of a grand sense of peace. Senses are pervaded for the ‘greater’ scheme lived by lawmakers and plans enacted by fools with badges and firearms.


The aftermath of vices slows ambition but can not create a lull in this life. Although the hours pass painfully, the melancholy of the body comforts the mind with contortions of comfort and torture; more so, it hints of machismo.


One near spews childish nonsense as i bask in memory, remembering a life long-since passed. Although her petite silhouette no longer comes to visit while i sleep, day dreams often refer to the time when we passed through seas on the same vessel. Now dreams are filled with wailing winds and uncertain currents. Orion’s time of sky is coming to a rest, and until next autumn, it will be scorpio i see when i search for a sense of direction on the sea.

I consider the world around me; word by word, letter to letter, and phrases of pages.

It starts as everyday things; the sound traffic makes, a rustling of the wind, and the beats of pacing.

But the situation often complicates as sensuous rhetoric becomes the sneering of a silence. It becomes steadfast into certainly inescapable depths of regretful threats, held on and through the banality encompassing foes and friends.


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