this is the prose version that later became a smaller poem.
I was gazing into the clouds and I would have loved to call you my darling. They say that all clouds have a supple silver lining, but I dont see it. They say that I am a sleepwalker with high hopes for being a vegetable. Personally, I dont see the analogy. I think the reason why I sleep walk is the fact that whenever I close my eyes I end up staring into yours. For once I seek to fall amazed into a bitter dream, chiseled out of hope.
But sometimes I fall asleep during winter and I dream of all the other things I would have loved to see. And when the first rays of sun brings with them tellings of spring I slowly awake in a myst-filled room with stories of fortunes and sin.
~
Infront of me stands a 6-foot-tall bunny. And he always brings me tidings of the end, the unmistakable white. And in his tidings the analogy comes to life and continues to live with the ticking of the clock he wears.
He brings me to a quiet place, claiming it to be the last place I will ever dream again. Here I see the wish of a man reborned, scorched into the ash-grey walls. And here is full of spectres of all the dreams I have dreamt. Yearning for the last stop of this imaginary cellar I gaze into the door, neglected.
Words by method behind madness
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Written on 2010-04-19 at 16:18
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frank (maybe in spring -- in a cellar, redux)
I was gazing into the clouds and I would have loved to call you my darling. They say that all clouds have a supple silver lining, but I dont see it. They say that I am a sleepwalker with high hopes for being a vegetable. Personally, I dont see the analogy. I think the reason why I sleep walk is the fact that whenever I close my eyes I end up staring into yours. For once I seek to fall amazed into a bitter dream, chiseled out of hope.
But sometimes I fall asleep during winter and I dream of all the other things I would have loved to see. And when the first rays of sun brings with them tellings of spring I slowly awake in a myst-filled room with stories of fortunes and sin.
~
Infront of me stands a 6-foot-tall bunny. And he always brings me tidings of the end, the unmistakable white. And in his tidings the analogy comes to life and continues to live with the ticking of the clock he wears.
He brings me to a quiet place, claiming it to be the last place I will ever dream again. Here I see the wish of a man reborned, scorched into the ash-grey walls. And here is full of spectres of all the dreams I have dreamt. Yearning for the last stop of this imaginary cellar I gaze into the door, neglected.
Words by method behind madness
Read 578 times
Written on 2010-04-19 at 16:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
