Nothing,
Silent, suppressed,
Setting like the cold sun,
Oh, how warm is the void's caress,
Nothing.
Saturday, December 6
..because 'nothing' is also an art
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Welcome, Ghosts!
the me
- Psychotic Philosopher
- Turning some dust-covered gears and animating my fingers to write, write, and write. It is through this writing that you and I can grasp up to the heavens of our own design, and sit for a while, enjoying the gentle passage of time, like two idle lovers caught up in the healthy currents of life.)
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