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love letters...(that's why i write you) |
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intro(spection) oil on canvas. fingerprints on a beating heart discordant organization in the dulcet and circuitous chaos that is life, that isn't explicitly or expressively inherent, yet gnawing all the same. |
so here we begin to journey through a process in the making, a tragedy tragically pending...an orchestra holding its breath as the conductor's baton reaches the apex of its upbeat. |
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the smile i fake is a permanent reminder of the audacity posessed in utter regard to making you feel ok. hand me a forever marker so i can draw on this emotion, paint it black. black for Permanent with a capital "P." who said that i can't create forever? but you ask, "what's there to keep you from smiling?" plenty. life is just a little ways ahead waiting for you to catch up. so carry on, don't keep life waiting. when you're done, draw me a picture. . . . picturesque eternally |
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[of silver hearts and stolen days]  bleak mornings and overcast skies of ill-seeming intentions
be there no surprises. make no claims. in my heaven there isn't such a thing as luck. nothing happens out of coincidence and there are no accidents. there is a reason and resolve for everything. after all is said and done - with reasons, no less - i find a tear at the corner of my eye. and when i cry of stolen days the world still goes on and on and on.
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2004.05.24
the face of the...whispered promises on maple leaves and a checkered tablecloth laid over porcelain wood. an autumn tale.i am your shattered verb. ..."whimper" more |
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finishing touches the artist stands back to regard the fruits of his labor, completion as an emotion and as a piece of work. sweat glistens on his brow as a paintbrush drips colors everywhere at his side, and with a faint, satisfied smirk, he turns his back to the canvas strewn and walks away, paintbrush in hand, happy at heart. |
| Last Updated: Sunday June 13, 2004 @ 09:34PM |
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