Viva la RevolucionAlso, no more highschool.
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come again another dayit rolls across the sky like so many ships, their sails catch the wind, fluid masts fly no colours save the heavy grey of storm clouds. their hulls crash against the waves of air, the current pushing and pulling: a torrent of violent motion, to rumble, the deep-throated, sultry melody of thunder, announcing the arrival of such airborne fleets. and with a flash, the cannons salute, the light of them piercing, racing across the heavens, illuminating nothing less than everything. they fire in halted, sudden succession, thcome again another day
by ~Protothor
stone boyskin like stone it stands, stock still, observing the world continue beneath it.stone boy
eyes flat and lifeless, it watches in silence, quietly noticing the tenor of life.
hands cold and rigid, it remains detached, its frozen embrace one of utter dissatisfaction.
yet still she persists: stands, sits, sings, just to be for a while at the foot of this statue of a man, made of stone.
and with painful slowness, begin.
miniscule fissures work their way across marble skin, eyes gain some light of inspiration, ice-locked grasp begins
by ~Protothor
Transparentsometimes i wish to just crawl into your head, close the door, and turn off the lights; curl up and rest, finally. maybe in your dreams, i could find some answers.Transparent
i wish to be transparent for you, to let you see me, to see through me and find exactly what it is that i am. it's so difficult; see-through shadows are still shadows.
i offer silence, and expect the echoes to offer me answers. but in your voice, there is something there.
by ~Protothor
like the birdsthe cool of the morning: it stirs. and with first rays of dawn cresting the horizon; it beats its steady rhythm, it spreads its wings.like the birds
the slight breeze blows gently, and with the birds, it sings.
the day grows warmer: it writes letters. and as the sun climbs silently, gradually, tenderly; ink forms characters through which it comforts you.
the breeze blows softly, on wayward telephone lines, it sits, it sings.
the
by ~Protothor
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- Personal Quote: "vos es prodigiosus."
- Email: protothor@gmail.com
- AIM: protothor
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