The lost grandeur of autumn days haunt my winter mornings with a mist of demise. As the leaves fall from heaven like dew drops into her petal-like mouth, I lose myself to the thirst of a man lost in an ocean of salt and sand. I tell myself that she is gone, the dew drop has dried into its reflection. But, no man can know thirst like i do.
It's been days, but I met people today, The same people again, with their morose masks on, in the masquerade of denial. Wandered with them past faces I will never see again. And, with them, i died the death of my desires and reincarnated back into the surfeit of my suffering. I, having yet again forgotten the semblance of my sorrow, plunged into my self-made darkness of a deeper dismay, lost memories and days of blackout. The sorrow shall survive, the sorrow of life, the sorrow of negation.
Dismissal....
Say, the spring is alive in me...
And, I'm fine....as fine, as this claim can afford.
It's been days, but I met people today, The same people again, with their morose masks on, in the masquerade of denial. Wandered with them past faces I will never see again. And, with them, i died the death of my desires and reincarnated back into the surfeit of my suffering. I, having yet again forgotten the semblance of my sorrow, plunged into my self-made darkness of a deeper dismay, lost memories and days of blackout. The sorrow shall survive, the sorrow of life, the sorrow of negation.
Dismissal....
Say, the spring is alive in me...
And, I'm fine....as fine, as this claim can afford.
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