If I want to succeed, I might as well If I want to move forward, I might as well I might as well draw from that well This infinite source of joviality I might as well focus on just this thing Just this moment, a justice fling Justice for that part of me Which seeks happiness […]Read more "Might as well"
Another flower withered today Observe them falter every which way Not loved enough or yet too much Once beauty, smooth, now coarsely rough What’s dead is still, framed there and then Beheld forever by one man As that which was, which blossomed, full Mildew on leaves, o’er my eyes: wool And all senses’ remembrances are stirred By […]Read more "Withered, but remembered still"
Summer. Sweat. A head void and filled at once. Grabbing a beer, a guitar, getting up on stage. A buzzing noise that constantly grows louder. Bobbing heads. A beam of sunlight blinding a whole city. Instead of order, chaos. In chaos, a new liberty. Always bearing in mind the rules we disassemble. Nonchalantly breaking free. […]Read more "Fading . . . Rising"
Ce goût si âcre dans ma bouche qui me reste d’hier. Il y a à peine une semaine, ce fut encore un goût plaisant. Or, le temps, il déchire, il relativise, il met en perspective, comme un moulin qui ne cesse pas de mouler, les mémoires se trouvent éparpillées, minimisées par lui. Concept immonde que […]Read more "Le goût de l’instant"
Down by the river, I looked into a mirror. Down by the river, I saw my own face. Distorted by the moonshine, I saw my own face, saw it break. Lights of the city reflecting in the water. Sirens howling, places to be. Down by the river, reaction time is shorter, Soul searching to do, […]Read more "Down by the river"
I guess I’ve got it figured out. I guessed that yesterday and I was proven wrong. I’ll guess it again tomorrow. Every time I do, I am sure. A rock. Alone against the crushing waves. Blue. Grey. A color scheme as poor as my experience. The wind, it talks to me. I can’t quite make […]Read more "The extrinsic element to the value of being"
So bleak a prospect, so weak the light that manages to shine through. Through all the darkness that fills my head, the ink, the fog, the poison… a dimmed yellow speck is within sight but out of reach. That there might be something, so rare yet so yearned for that can unravel the spider’s webs that […]Read more "Unsettled mind, rough sea"