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Thursday, October 25, 2007


poetry
Untitled
consisting of nothingness,

my empty space does not bring me pain.

it does not contradict, speak ill-words, or

bring up subjects to cause me to go insane.

here i stand counting hair strands with no

feeling but yet remorse is there as if i

walk on no land

i felt as if i was exiled, contained no
formula

running from the shadows of my heart to not

isolate as if i'm contained within the

bermuda living within alantis as miyazaki

would call laputa.

the nothingness i anticipated is like heaven

above and earth below.

except that the perfect world is not sins

written in a row.



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