Tuesday, 11 January 2011
Do you Want the Truth or Something Beautiful?
Finalised alignment, stitching close as can be. Pattern looks to be complete. All is admired and appreciated. Years long and great. If planning took months then production puts the boastful in their place. Music spun it's intoxicating web of provocative motion and hum. Fairies dance in their melodic fashion unaware of all, especially the jealousy on the wisps of tailcoats of those whom wish tomorrow never came. Time of beauty and passion was discovered behind the unlocked bedroom door. The reality that of denial and inane immorality. Rebels to that of propriety, aptly introduced by political imbalance of a society seen to use a system once deemed 'free and fair'. We speak in assonance. The cause of wrongs hidden by passing of two houses. Candles throb their in their delicacy of hypnotic trance. The forest would be silent at this time of night. You would long to be part of that. One with all and everything. Though were not made that way. Time does not exist now in the way that was once intended. The fire of delusion strikes again and we are made 'ill' by our lack of order, conveniently named 'disorder' too. A recurring theme in the ironic light of darkness. The trees will be stripped bare, sorrows bleeding from the saplings eyes for it's noble brother or sister. Nothing is something if it amounts to everything. Is this all a special affect to arouse and stir? To inspire or to sow the seeds of dire doubt? Insecurities left, right and center. You've got 23 minutes to go, write your heart out. The stitching had secretly unraveled. I've got heavy. My truth. I should add that colours are fading. I won't tell.