Sunday, April 4, 2010

There is a dark room

I stand drenched, soaked

I tap through the darkness music, void

I can hear the voice, not mine, not yours, but a dead tone.

There is a way to drift away in thoughts,

Soaked, soggy, salted sweet.

The scars that my nails bore into your skin

The blood which stained your wear,


How long can you go blind?

Like the dark room you can see,

But you close your eyes tight,

And walk to hit wrong walls,

Your wear stained

I can hear those words,

Deceptive, I may put it as one,

In that dark room, I still can

Hear void music,




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