Here, my friend, lies all my life,
in all it's glorious wrecks sublime,
arrays of misfortunate events,
and chronicles of wasted time
Be quiet now, don't wake her up,
for I don't wish to live her twice,
I've done that once, and that's enough
for she has passed and I am wise
Forever here, on my life's grave,
a weeping widow of sadness mourns,
be not fooled, by her sorry tears,
'Tis just a facade that she adornes
And now I am a wasted soul,
in a barren land, that's dark and cold,
repenting for my sordid crime,
in chronicles of wasted time.
This work is licensed under
a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
- suraj sharma
- my mind, therefore, becomes this outstretched field of immeasurable serenity, which, although illuminated at angles awkward and unfamiliar to my eyes - is neither dark nor twilit. The strange lighting turns the vacuous foreplay of shadows chasing shadows into an euphoric, almost utopian feeling which is held in suspension as long as this configuration of appearances beckons the restlessness of reason ever forward into the uncharted hinterlands of imagination while at the same time compelling me to bless the lighting director.
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2006
(79)
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March
(19)
- Frostbite
- Building the Numb
- Chauvinist Pigs & Feminist Bitches
- Sunset of a totally awesome life
- The Candy Fields
- The Brownian Lark - Part Three
- The Brownian Lark - Part Two
- The Brownian Lark - Part One
- Satisfaction
- Devil’s Persuasion
- Nightmare Blue
- Bleeding Candles
- Wretched dreams
- The Falling Pianos
- The Falling Pianos (An Anthology)
- Twilight of Time
- Worthless
- Lighthouse Blues
- Chronicles Of Wasted Time
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▼
March
(19)
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