domingo, 29 de enero de 2012

You are. We are. W.

I even got confused with the sounds of the colours. The night is coming. I stand still. Awaiting. I hear the sounds. I hear the colours. The time is coming but I can't make a move. My mind is here and there, everywhere. Nowhere. Now. W.

You are. We are. W.

Dolls are singing and I see trough their true colours. Flowers have been chosen.

It was a ridiculous lie. The big one kind. Confusion was overall. Visions got blurry because of the big luck. The power slipped through the fingers.  But the noble silence made things more clear. White. W.

The creative space in you was also just some ready made fiction cuisine, nothing special. Your natural beauty was (is) somewhere else.

- Your hair looks great honey.

Black. W.