When you run, you don't run you walk.
When you walk you hardly move at all.
I.K. Estbon
Monday, April 27, 2009
27APR09
These words, they fall.
Tumbling. Falling.
Away, they spin (end over end)
to depart and sink.
The deep. Darkness.
We say. We forget.
In time.
I.K. Estbon
Tumbling. Falling.
Away, they spin (end over end)
to depart and sink.
The deep. Darkness.
We say. We forget.
In time.
I.K. Estbon
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
...
Enter a life of past regrets.
She stares and whispers while you whimper.
The thoughts turning. Minds to rot.
I.K. Estbon
She stares and whispers while you whimper.
The thoughts turning. Minds to rot.
I.K. Estbon
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
...
Dream the dreams. May they return so you can dream them once more.
Go to sleep, rest now and float away.
Dream the dreams.
I.K. Estbon
Go to sleep, rest now and float away.
Dream the dreams.
I.K. Estbon
Thursday, April 9, 2009
...
Where can we go from here?
It seems rediculous the future that lies ahead of us. It is almost as if there is little future left at times.
Where can we go from here?
I.K. Estbon
It seems rediculous the future that lies ahead of us. It is almost as if there is little future left at times.
Where can we go from here?
I.K. Estbon
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
07APR09
The static hum, the static hiss.
The shriek, the calling.
The anger surrounding, the anger within.
Finally falling.
The broken screams, a simple cry.
Pleasure receding.
Drumming the voice's beating, the pulse within.
The sound of grieving.
I.K. Estbon
The shriek, the calling.
The anger surrounding, the anger within.
Finally falling.
The broken screams, a simple cry.
Pleasure receding.
Drumming the voice's beating, the pulse within.
The sound of grieving.
I.K. Estbon
Monday, April 6, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
...
It comes with a beginning, and with that a future.
And then there's what remains.
Who knows where this will be taken, what unknown paths of consciousness it will tread. There is but one journey and so many things to experience.
I.K. Estbon
Does the sun still shine the same way...?
Does it sit there and wait for you patiently to react to your day...?
When everything seems out of place and out of time what is left to
reel you into line...?
And who is to decide what colour the world will appear in today...?
Whether it is a deep morose of blues and greens or the brightest
yellow and orange... Who is to say whether those castles burning on
the horizon will affect us...? The flames seem so distant and sullen,
it is hard to imagine that they could ever have burned so fierce and
brightly in our direction...
We sail on a sea of memory...
And then there's what remains.
Who knows where this will be taken, what unknown paths of consciousness it will tread. There is but one journey and so many things to experience.
I.K. Estbon
Does the sun still shine the same way...?
Does it sit there and wait for you patiently to react to your day...?
When everything seems out of place and out of time what is left to
reel you into line...?
And who is to decide what colour the world will appear in today...?
Whether it is a deep morose of blues and greens or the brightest
yellow and orange... Who is to say whether those castles burning on
the horizon will affect us...? The flames seem so distant and sullen,
it is hard to imagine that they could ever have burned so fierce and
brightly in our direction...
We sail on a sea of memory...
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