affection of the universe,
materialized,
leaks into my ear
and becomes a sound.
i’m so full of love for you.
as the long shadow of this thought
crawls out of my sight,
thick doubt blurs
this
pale tranquility.
frail dream changes shape
and starts to shrivel,
as a nightmare in front of me.
i try to scream:
please don’t leave me here..
but i’m too weak to press the words
and
push them out of mouth.
Sounds Like
cello cries embedded
in background noise.
a bassline broken by a machine,
a soul condensed into a voice,
dispersed into a thousand drops of acid rain.
e, inace zvao me juce neki lik iz topole da mi kaze da 12.aprila ima pozvakowski u topoli..da kao obavezno dodjem. ja nisam znala sta je to, al napricao mi je svasta pa mi se ide.. a vidim da su ti u topu. oces sa mnom?
A pure sound or a clear image certainly does not provide us with reality. We must convince of it for ourselves in sound, image and word; we must intoxicate the clarity in order to aquire a meaningful distincton. We must perceive ourselves as intoxicated, while beeing fully conscious.
