January
Monday 22 June 2009 photo 2/2
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For to long Ive been sailing my one man ship
Driven by hate and lonlyness I aimed for the long shores of final solitude
A place where the sun never leaves its hidingplace far beneath the horizon
And the moon is hidden by dark clouds of inhumanity and truth
For to long Ive been trying to turn my ship around
But with only one direction, I have forgotten how to steer it
And what once was my ship, all I had
Has turned to a thoughtless imprisonment
A dark cage that drives me further and further away from the ordinary sence
What once was my goal, has turned to a spiral evergoing nightmare
An endless void of cold, shatterd feelings and cold, shatterd thoughts
Trapped in the self
Of a destructive, hatedriven lesser being
Without no trace from where I came
No map where the light is
Blind I walk in this lowlands of fallen hope and despair
No sunrise or darkfall
No wind in my tainted hair
No mountains nor calm streams
Only dust and ashes that form a eternal landscape
Breathing an ambience of silence and cynism
I keep walking forth without footprints in this third dimension
I keep walking endlessly ahead with increasing anxiety
I got nothing left except the death and sleep of the self and what follows next
Driven by hate and lonlyness I aimed for the long shores of final solitude
A place where the sun never leaves its hidingplace far beneath the horizon
And the moon is hidden by dark clouds of inhumanity and truth
For to long Ive been trying to turn my ship around
But with only one direction, I have forgotten how to steer it
And what once was my ship, all I had
Has turned to a thoughtless imprisonment
A dark cage that drives me further and further away from the ordinary sence
What once was my goal, has turned to a spiral evergoing nightmare
An endless void of cold, shatterd feelings and cold, shatterd thoughts
Trapped in the self
Of a destructive, hatedriven lesser being
Without no trace from where I came
No map where the light is
Blind I walk in this lowlands of fallen hope and despair
No wind in my tainted hair
No mountains nor calm streams
Only dust and ashes that form a eternal landscape
Breathing an ambience of silence and cynism
I keep walking forth without footprints in this third dimension
I keep walking endlessly ahead with increasing anxiety
I got nothing left except the death and sleep of the self and what follows next
Comment the photo
Will try. Gonna write something more atleast, I think.
Ingen vers eller refräng dock, men det måste man iförsig inte ha heller.
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