do continue

the times are very hard, the door opens to the sunshine
the trek to the plains hasn't been attempted by me or any other inhabitant
the skies seem to be too close,i sense suffocation
the boats descend, the nets are thrown in,
the fishes fly to freedom over our plans
in the making, taking turns to dance,
the ground is very plain indeed.

trying to communicate through an imaginary landscape.
pour your heart out into the machine,
wanting someone to find it.
traces are left, on this site, on that one..
faceless friends and wired transmissions,
searching from the same spot for
hours, days, months.

solve your own mysteries

i'm sure no one has the time or interest to listen, significant research and observation has proven that man is a social being but only for selfish reasons.
okey... so i'm tired of people. that's what all this is,and a bit sick of myself, having to wake up and look at the same face; been doing it for twenty one years now. i can't believe how ridiculously prolonged it is,and i continue to go on.
i feel like an old,very old person,not wise only old, sometimes my bones crackle like crushed nuts(laugh at the pun if you have to) and my chest hurts when i run. i wonder why some desire to live forever, they look to be young, be immortal, if you think carefully for ten minutes you'll tire of the idea immediately.

feelings

put them in crates and sell them.
the marketplace is open today,
all the ribbons and flowers are
out of stock.
the farmer pleasantries
of every soul, believing the goodness,
blinds guilt and parades it in town,
i know intimately,
hell as she dances on the ballroom,
the beautiful.

visual sound

breaking to the sounds
twisting arms, legs breaking
throats open
bodies falling to the ground
the sounds grow louder
but who is behind it..
staring at each other
in harmony
forming bonds like
pages of memory
the room grows cold
and the air disappears.

run from the sandstorm.
is it following us?
is he?
where is he...
dancing in the shadows,
dangerously close
to the fire
in the camp.
where will we hide
and will we find
the stranger?

faces on mountains

fall is coming this year
from afar
bringing the sleep
carrying the coat
dragging the meat
to this town.
the faces are older
than a minute before
they began to sing
playing their instruments
touching the equipment
and standing still.
mountains turned
and stared.