the strange effect

the world is of meandering broken roads beserk with candycorn nylons waydown, sideways and all the in-betweens. in silent solitude, i speak for the moment: of unconscious splendours and fiery thoughts, let not of love true insolence speak nor remain hidden from thy sight amongst all forbidden. let caress these pair of eyes, nor see nor heart will not feel without thy hand in mine.

in murky sulphur, we are counting fictional stars in silent cognitions and thinking; perceptive-thinking, of all the crazy inuendos that have somehow, someway or another defined these irrevocable changes within us. they represent equations, myriads of pretty equations of numbers summing up to an empty text to who we were, to become who we are at present; and on to who we shall be tomorrow. there have been so many times, i wanted to tell you how much i wished i could tear all these walls down and step in my puddles of afflicted affection for you. so you know. so you would only know. but i have realised it doesn't matter because, i promise you, there is no sadness here. not even the slightest string of regret nor qualms about the could have beens and what ifs of the yesteryears. nothing. zilch. this is a different kind of nothing-ness. a new phenomena.

these walls. without realising, these walls have sunk deeper and deeper, an inch each time and i'm speaking my words only because i know you now exist in my dyslexic cognitions. i am no longer in a constricted box inside my head. instead, i am alive, kicking sand at shorelines with every opportunity i get.

my reflection is shown beneath the sun. and although the image may be distorted as water stirs. sun light still dances as these occurs.