Silence is the liquor with which to quench a broken heart. Yet, the heart is not broken by some sentimental romance but by the cruelty of life's acrid milieu. A poisonous wave that laps at the delicate morphology of the shores of one's aspirations and polishes the definitive textures of its stones to a placid yet vapid uniformity. And the stones of one's heart shift with wrenching indignity but never finding courage or perhaps the compelling reason (as though moving mountains could calm a sinister sea) to rift and rumble with the suppressed forces of spirit. They entomb themselves in the silence and let the opiating emptiness of such an entity ameliorate the burn of haggard existence. I imbibe the listless silence just as I breath the very air, until my heart is as faded as the ambient hues strangled by overcast skies in a life where there is no sun and yet one has forgotten what it is to rain.
(6/20/2008)
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1 comment:
*hugs* That's sad, are you sad Leezle?
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