Thursday, November 10, 2011


It hurts, but we move on. In the rain, sound numbs the frozen emotions, lending strength.

Pictures revolve around memories lethal - fast to the point and lingering to ensure. Not much to work with, but artisans are seldom in need of excess.

The real world becomes blurred visions, paintings of what's in front of our unwitting eyes. Windscreen wipers act as hosts to a wealthy pool of reasons. More to come; there is always more.

Unwelcome, unwanted, overrated and all too infamous - the draining substantial from our deepest thoughts. Too diverse to gather, too shallow to drown in, we wander.

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