And I died a little bit more.
Fascinating how you can keep on dying even when there’s no more life left in you.
And she was moved by nothing else but the crushing weightlessness of her wants.
And I listened to the silencing rumble of drums.
The deafening quietude of strings.
The shushing of metal.
The stomping melody of melody.
And I heard the unforeseeable.
And she saw not the sound of her words.
And I heard the drums in my head.
And felt the tightening strings around my lungs.
And the icy dagger put to rest on my very back.
And I lived a little bit less.
Remarkable how you can continue to not live even when there’s no more death left in you.
Fri, 11/22/2013 - 01:04