I speak of things i feel, so primordial, that structured expression kills the essence.
I speak of things i see.
so easy to ignore, yet, so crucial
I find release in the seeming disorder of my Poetry; the subtle signs i see.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Apocalyptica: The Unforgiven
There is just something about the music.
That takes you to a place somewhere deep inside your head.
Somewhere dark and muted.
where the vista is in sepia and your thoughts are in Black&White. And red.
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You whisper your name... but i can't hear it.