April 28, 2010
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Binded hands can't create until they are freed from their strings.creativity cannot roam until it's boundaries are forgotten. Senseless tears need no reason to fall. Shameless,I'm imagining myself freefalling to an abundant nothingness. I rest my eyes and I scream. I'm letting them know that I'm alive. I exist. In pure agony,they recall,how they hurt me and how my emotions scattered to faraway lands. How I was left emotionless and blank. My rings slip from my lengthy fingers,the cotton clouds slip from the sky. And I,am left staring blankly in this sea of confusion and insanity. Why can't you see me for who I am?why can't you look inside my soul?I ask impatiently.,as I remain in exile,positioned in this porcelain box of sanctity. Do we,as humans,ven carry souls?are we accompanied by our familiars and our totems?or are we all just lost in the wonderland of translucent and mysterious tears?forget me not,sweet remed. We all long to taste your innocence. Especially I,as I dangle helplessly from this cherry cloud. The end is near,they whisper here,as indeed,I gently fall down.  

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