the 0 at midnightI sat by the window, the third row back on the right. Tired from my day and somewhat sickened from that sixth cigarette, I had no wish to interact with anyone. A man in his early thirties sat in the front on the right, smiling and laughing with such a pained expression on his face. Upon boarding he'd failed to spark conversation with the driver, a large, aged man, with gray hair, leathery skin and a curdled expression. Only a little time passed before he gestured to a man who sat to my right one row up, asking him why he was on a bus so late in the evening. An abrupt andthe 0 at midnight
LoveNo more fickle a thing may there be found A most potent weapon and remedy It may allow envy and hate compound Or may instill peace and tranquilityLove
No matter is there more written upon Nor emotion we so ill comprehend Illustrious horizon we fixate on Through any damages we may amend
There is nil greater then for a man to Forsake his everything despite the pain And in good conscience see each day through Willing to die for another man's gain
The root of man's mans joy and his distress Sweet love, our cruel and yet wonderous mistress
Shabbat ShalomShabbat Shalom In this rancid home The challah tastes of ash The air's so stale My skin so pale And eyes heavy as stoneShabbat Shalom
Shabbat Shalom In this squalid home My veins are clogged with snow Please tell me why The good ones die And I am left to roam
Shabbat Shalom In this putrid home Please say its sacrilege My memory pales Self-hatred tails Tonight I drink alone
and i return...again.
Neutral
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Is art a spectator sport?
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~Lini~ [link]
|| olen ainoa joka voi pelastaa minut itseltäni ||
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"If you need a hero you have diminished yourself in some way"
--
Energize!
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No need to argue
--
Ora lei e' mia - del tutto mi appartiene
nel male e nel bene,
dal mio impetuoso e ardito amare
nessun angelo ti potra' salvare.
Hermann Hesse
--
"Where the spirit does not work with the hand, there is no art." -- Leonardo da Vinci.
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[link]
--
Ora lei e' mia - del tutto mi appartiene
nel male e nel bene,
dal mio impetuoso e ardito amare
nessun angelo ti potra' salvare.
Hermann Hesse
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