Thursday, 13 October 2011

05 August 2007

incandescence morning sun, bereaves the midnight drift
opulence betrays the mood, of restless melancholy

could you, ever imagine, such a place as this?
where i can think in technicolour, and you are proud of it?
might i just go there, when rain is falling fast
to look upon my shaded world, fatigued with memories passed

how peculiar in this reverie, of silent reckless thought
so strange this atmosphere, that i can barely talk

riddles are written, upon your watchful face
eyes reflect troubled musings, that i fail to fathom
we pass beyond all solace, twilight dwindles hollow doubt

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a penny for your thoughts