Drumster's Den Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead – Bukowski

21Feb/080

Beauty

Who said life isn't beautiful? Its as beautiful as a dying dream with the well conjured scenes and hopes left behind in its wake. Life is as tranquil as the flight of a feather detached from the body of that bird, once full of life. Life is somewhere between the spaces of that drunken night and the morning after. Life is between the spaces of that broken dream and a new start. Life is between the spaces of that girl's heart who never loved you. Life is between the spaces of that jump out of the window and the landing thereafter. The beautiful silence. Life is a mirage of abandoned dreams and unfinished battles. Whoever said life was beautiful, must be out of his damn mind.

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5Feb/080

Spent Winters

Winter for me is a season of lost innocence. Of days when words didn't hold with them the weight of the world. Then, before I knew it, time stood still, sweet smoke blowing through my nostrils, the world receding lazily into oblivion and strange visions threatening to take over my mind. I was born again and the world seemed new. My darling girl was still at my side, her eyes - delirious, making love to the smoke and watching me with tenderness. Time had stopped reeling somewhere in between and we were just two souls sitting in a deserted field with dreams of utopia.

To this day I travel lonesome on a road I never took, but still running. Inebriation gripping my soul but thoughts of another lifetime, so distant even my mind plays tricks on that log of life. Trapped inside.

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