Stale Posted January 19, 2003 Report Posted January 19, 2003 Well, every time I wander into the halls of the pen I feel I should write something, and as usual, when you feel like creating something, there is nothing there... This is rough and raw, unpolished and without plan Hunger So empty inside, like a book without words I hunger for substance, crave for something I search within and search without I hunt the night, the moon, the stars So my aim is random, my eyes deceive What seem so clear, is not yet there What plans I have, I gladly share What my pen erase, before its there, its here So it is hollow I see, that I behold When I touch my head, wipe cold sweat When I scream out loud, synaptic pain When the day wakes up, with rain, soft rain So I close my eyes, it will not be dear Its all but nothing, rules of chaos Its what I can do, forget and regret Then I see, what was hidden, hidden to me And with bursting lungs, sound explodes For all to see, I am what I told For a moment of joy, I take a breath For then it is over... so hollow, empty inside
Justin Silverblade Posted January 19, 2003 Report Posted January 19, 2003 When creation flows so freely, unguided and unrefined, it truely earns its title as art. Such is here, I think ah? Thanks for sharing, Stale. I hope you continue to write/post.
Falcon2001 Posted January 19, 2003 Report Posted January 19, 2003 Very good usage of words and imagery, and it just looks cool too! Very neato words, too
Rune Posted January 20, 2003 Report Posted January 20, 2003 Amazing, if that is unpolished I couldnt even imagine what you would considered polished. I cant wait to read more!
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