firstrays
Bluelighter
In the soul of the summertime, I sweat, sweet electricity, running down my limbs. Life is amplified, all the lights are beautiful, the sounds harmonious. Sparks fly from my skin like some kind of static producing machine. I feel the power, the life force in my palms, itching wanting release. I am the One, and yet, I am no one.
Life goes by like fireflies in the night, and I miss it if I don't reach out and grab it with both hands. Time flies while I watch the light show, I wake up and it's a month gone by...
Life seems more profound, day by day, and yet seems to hold a whole lot of nothingness. Epiphanies shoot through my brain, I must be quick to harness them.
Sleep comes like an old friend, one whom I have not seen in ages, and I sleep the sleep of the dead. The dust settles on me, that inevitable silt/sand of the desert. It's in everything here, there *is* no clean in this land. I am not clean, have not been clean while in this fantasy, this Matrix of the mind and flesh.
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It's not until you've lost everything that your free to do anything.
Life goes by like fireflies in the night, and I miss it if I don't reach out and grab it with both hands. Time flies while I watch the light show, I wake up and it's a month gone by...
Life seems more profound, day by day, and yet seems to hold a whole lot of nothingness. Epiphanies shoot through my brain, I must be quick to harness them.
Sleep comes like an old friend, one whom I have not seen in ages, and I sleep the sleep of the dead. The dust settles on me, that inevitable silt/sand of the desert. It's in everything here, there *is* no clean in this land. I am not clean, have not been clean while in this fantasy, this Matrix of the mind and flesh.
------------------
It's not until you've lost everything that your free to do anything.
