As image after image flash past the diseased mind, this is a time of peace that normal days wouldn't see. But it is that kind of peace that deadens the mind, deadens the life insofar that life becomes a drugged daze that sees no flux.
It saddens me to see the ruined citadels of my friend's blog, a pale shadow of what it once was. Dusty winds blow across the tattered landscape although my abode fares no better. Maintenance is time-consuming, and the real world affords no time, much less this trifling occupation.
Time passes so fast, people age so quickly, citadels fall and mighty structures crumble. Yet everything moves like my feet across the mud and swamps - my computer included. Time moves so slow now.
I need to cry, yet my tears freeze on my face before they even began. The ice spreads across my heart and my blood but glaciers. I feel nothing yet everything. Who can, who will understand this paradox? Except my other self.
Old boy, old boy, when will the time come? I have waited for so long. And you ask me to wait still.
No comments:
Post a Comment