Something in the Eyes (Part 01)
My own stories bore me.
I've lived them, turned about in their seams, and it seems all the magic is let out on the Night like a fluff of lint from the dryer... our tumbler of passion, forlorn and worn now like a shapeless garment subverting youth's bravado.
I wear the dark sky, Moth eaten. Searchlights are pouring in or out, I cannot be sure, but I can see the dust in which weeds are growing... like it never even happened!
Where could he go, having had his fill, of Nothing...?
And so this silent plea, in search of some new tireless wings to peer into each opening and stave off that heartless tomorrow, upon which every thread and limb of creation is hanging... with hunger.
Am I destined to fall into the moon, and rise with some withheld breath, like in a hot air balloon? I am looking out for that flittering creature with its harmless bite, and fluttering beating, like leaves parting in the window of the evening. I want to watch the interplay of Light and Shadows, of dreams catching up with Life.