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02/01/2006
Gravity pulls and pulls until things come together but feet don't always have to touch the ground...
02/04/2006
The weight of things is of little matter to those who find no solace in scales. Its the substance that is the
key, isn't it?
02/05/2006
Air. Finally, there's air. There's a span of a breathe between busy and busy and I'm already living in it.
Hopefully, I'll be able to get everything done in this time frame.
02/13/2006
There are worlds beyond the telling of words. The slightest and the mightiest meet with electricity eyes
and lay waste to the land in between. Salted earth and bridges lit to the testament of gods long dead. Find
me a harbor that knows little of such places and I will find myself a whole in the sky to fit through. Fill
me with words and empty my heavily beating chest into the ether.
02/14/2006
The days of full moon's light are nearing close. The nights of light are done. Simple wails to heavens pale
lead to reminiscent hours of that emotion hence. Head tilt high with whispers sighed into deafened ears
and blistered eyes. Where tears of old neither heal nor scold the bearer's face so dried in this case. The
wallow left had asked that we look west and avoid the thought a plenty. But hollow chest, knowing its not
best my feet walk miles descending.
02/23/2006
There once was a sea with nothing but me in the middle of turbulent water. The song in the air, the musk
of despair, one step away from a falter. There once was a man on the other world's land that stared down
the gaping chasm. He sees my foot, the underside boot, from below shock is the face that wears him.
There now is a time when nothing but rhyme makes sense to the minds of old. With pause reflect I at the
hole that I spy, the abyss, the hole through the world.
02/28/2006
The world in a day can fill your ears. It can crash and crumble and quiet. The false lull feeds the pull of
insanity. A supernova sucked into the pinpoint of a black hole. Hours to minutes to seconds all relative.
One hour at work or an hour dealing with other drivers. Whatever. The pin pricked the black and all the
light is going down. Away. Away. Away.
Gravity pulls and pulls until things come together but feet don't always have to touch the ground...
02/04/2006
The weight of things is of little matter to those who find no solace in scales. Its the substance that is the
key, isn't it?
02/05/2006
Air. Finally, there's air. There's a span of a breathe between busy and busy and I'm already living in it.
Hopefully, I'll be able to get everything done in this time frame.
02/13/2006
There are worlds beyond the telling of words. The slightest and the mightiest meet with electricity eyes
and lay waste to the land in between. Salted earth and bridges lit to the testament of gods long dead. Find
me a harbor that knows little of such places and I will find myself a whole in the sky to fit through. Fill
me with words and empty my heavily beating chest into the ether.
02/14/2006
The days of full moon's light are nearing close. The nights of light are done. Simple wails to heavens pale
lead to reminiscent hours of that emotion hence. Head tilt high with whispers sighed into deafened ears
and blistered eyes. Where tears of old neither heal nor scold the bearer's face so dried in this case. The
wallow left had asked that we look west and avoid the thought a plenty. But hollow chest, knowing its not
best my feet walk miles descending.
02/23/2006
There once was a sea with nothing but me in the middle of turbulent water. The song in the air, the musk
of despair, one step away from a falter. There once was a man on the other world's land that stared down
the gaping chasm. He sees my foot, the underside boot, from below shock is the face that wears him.
There now is a time when nothing but rhyme makes sense to the minds of old. With pause reflect I at the
hole that I spy, the abyss, the hole through the world.
02/28/2006
The world in a day can fill your ears. It can crash and crumble and quiet. The false lull feeds the pull of
insanity. A supernova sucked into the pinpoint of a black hole. Hours to minutes to seconds all relative.
One hour at work or an hour dealing with other drivers. Whatever. The pin pricked the black and all the
light is going down. Away. Away. Away.