Dec. 31st, 2011

methrowrock: (DBSK!)
Reclining against a creaky chair, as the night winds weave around dust-covered figurines and worn shelves, it seems that this is the peace that I have been looking for. Maybe it is the winding down of days, the ripping of sheets from a barely-there and badly-frayed calendar, the trickling of minute minute-sand that is especially visible at the end of the year. People begin to seek closure, attempting to repackage their shapeless days into sizable chunks of meaning and epiphanies. The retrofitted motorcycle emits a syncopated snarl, flaying the silence of the night. Rubber tyres grind gravel, the fan-blades slice through buttery air, the traffic lights take turns to wink: there is a muted and neutral precision that makes it feel that everything that you see, hear, touch, smell, taste is there for you. This world belongs to you. It exists for you. And when you reciprocate by immersing yourself fully in the world, with the world, a palpable calm settles over you, washing away worries and woes. Until, of course, this world that you see cracks and morphs into something else, shuddering from the fractures it had concealed. Self-contentment is a funny little thing, always evaporating just at the point of crystallizing. Ephemeral and fleeting, it lasts as long as, and is as invisible as, the air aspirated for its fricative descriptions. But for now, the hues burnish bright. The surroundings quiver with vibrant surreality. And you breathe, breathe, breathe, filling yourself top-full (not with direst cruelty lolol) with air so crisp that it could adorn your lungs with a thousand paper cuts. Gruesome, but you know what I mean.



there's always time on my mind )

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methrowrock

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