Cyclememories take shape as you step into a world of memories wherelost and found is a myth being one of increasing lies and truthswhich cannot be found and so are lost as a whole so there is nowonder that there are things which cannot be found in the wondersof a mind which is so lost it does not feel the truth and escapesthe lies jumping into a lie itself as it frees itself from the truthand then leaps into a fact of escaping thoughts which turninto memories which in then turn into truth which evolves into alie of memories and a cycle is born out of necessity and fear
DeflectionPersevere.Twisting,She glanced.The movementWhippedHer hairBack.She saw anotherAnother timeAnother spaceAnother her.But the coldDeadSparkleIn the eyesOf a reflection.Made her twist once again.Drown.ShiversRunning downHer spineThe coldBiting into her.She opened her eyes.DarkBlackA stream of dustLayering the pedestalUpon which she sat.Her head drooped.A presenceShe knew.A reflection.Laid it's hand onHer shoulder.Find me.
Masks Wear YouShe slid her handOver her maskThe spikesJust on the sideDug intoHer fingersShe let goGentlyHand movingAgain to restOn her kneesClutching the otherTightlySat on a chairThe airSailed pastHer shoulderMoved forwardHer hairDriftedFalling betweenThe SpikesNothing in the roomWoods surroundingHer beingThe white fabric flutteringFrom the cornersOf the windowShe standsHands fallingTo the sidesStrides to the frontPushes apart the frameFeels the coldAir of the nightAnd takesA singleStepAs sheMeltsInto the airAnd the scattered dust falls upon the treesAs the breeze carries her forward.
Restlessly BlankI sitwith my head on the deskon its sidefeeling the cold blank white surfacepressing into my cheekAs I twirl the pen in my handbetween my fingersdropping it oncereaching outpicking it up againI hold it upside downtapping it twicethen the other endgentlyso I don't scratch myever so emptycluttered deskI drop it againI let my handlay on the deskthe other hanging limply on the other sideI flick the pen awayWatch it roll of the edgeI sightwist my headmy nose presses againstthe warm part of the deskMy hands cover my faceheadphones slipoff slightlyI push themthe top resting againstthe b
PaperI starton paperWhere Ialways beginEach stroketravels up fromthe edge of my fingertipsMy visionis shroudedas it closes fromthe world of realitiesI stopfor a momentA sound wrenchingopen an instance ofdrowned insecuritiesWaves crashagainst the airin my lungsMy vision fadesas it leaps acrossthe veinof dropping wordsinto the oceanof colourSounds whisperbreeze acrossthe surfacerejecting everythingfighting against the windtravelling upa stream of lettersTaking holdof a single roseblackenedon a pedestaleverythinghaltsmy hands begin to moveas I watcha cascade of transcende