Yet another night of burning cigarrettes and swollen eyes,
shaping a ghost faded by the lights of dawn.
Performing random acts of senseless beauty for the sake of something I do not understand.
Red lights and black velvet. Painting black upon white. Naming the world.
If I was to fill my arms with all the joys of Heaven, I still would long for the knowledge of everything I'll never feel. For there are two ways to live, and it's my truth which you hold like glass in your hands.
And if my dreams should break against the will of the world, would I be to blame?
Could you, my secret reflection, be held guilty for my madness?
Speak to me now. Speak to me in this silent hour.
בכל הבלוגים
שם בלוג/בלוגר
