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...

when in her sadness
she swallows a blue-violet
drop of self-denial,
she proclaims to the cosmos
inside her
that she is dead
and that only her mind will know
what she truly felt

she distrusts with deep
furrows on her forehead:
the ripples on her skin
and the flux of blood through the vein
that meanders on her temples

rhythms, melodies -
phonon by phonon falling
with a resonant thud at her feet
she'd opt to pick them
throw them to the wind
with palms that let go
so easily so

who knows - does she -
where all this goes
nowhere near
right here
they'd never leave
procreating more sorrows,
red-tinted blunt agonies
shameless promotion of grief

this is where.

...
Solacea
12/12/2001
sumalangitnawa
...

it's dark inside

...
:iconshadowbounce:
shadowbounce Featured By Owner Dec 28, 2001   Writer
tis good to hear a voice among words you share. It's the second one i've read under your graph, and as you have your artistry to yourself and all falls well into shape by its own discourse, I have to say I love your words. I don't know you, yet there's a bit of a spirit there only you could react upon.

stay Tapped,
jon'fin

Reply
:iconammegand:
ammegand Featured By Owner Dec 25, 2001   Interface Designer
woh.
mmm.
Reply
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