Muse
...musing since January 18, 2004
Why
10.04.04
Why?
You trace the reality with red-dyed fingertips
Which linger on the surface of skin
Like dancing butterflies, tickling the forbidden edges of my mind
Where the reality is red-dyed
And doomed to a hell which may or may not exist.
But why?
The fragile minds will always question
With echoes of their learnings falling like crystal teardrops into the night
Only to be poured out on empty canvases
A canvas of skin, inked with tears
And love- doomed to a hell which may or may not exist.
Still, why?
We wonder in the silence which we wallow in
And we make little sense even in our own domain
But there is something which refrains us from falling apart
From pouring out onto their earth’s surface
So void of the reality, which is red-dyed
Thus becoming the hell which may or may not exist.
It is simulated, recompressed
It is lacking of all things which program you into ‘human’
But is it more or less a heaven
Than the chains which hold you back from your fragments of freedom?
Your fragments of freedom
You cannot escape them
More or less real, it doesn’t matter
Because your intelligence runs dry
As you sit and wonder why.
<--- fall into my patterened tears... [return]
<---<--- catch me as i fall? [CS]