the futileness .

written @ 10:51 pm on 06.03.04

the wind blows and blows.
and, the tears shed and shed.

then I pick up my flute. i hope to see that i am still useful in a certain extent. and then the flute suddenly turns to a nightmare which drives you dead.

it fills your mind with a poignant feeling that you cant get rid of no matter how hard you have tried. and then you collapse. the soul collapses too. because it can hold no more tears and sadness.

deep in my heart i dont feel cross with it. i should have felt that but tonite i just dont.

what i can do is to put it down.
but what is the subject "it"?
can i answer to myself?

let my heart collect the tears.
i am doomed to have the tears.

again, we can only hypnotise our ownselves to believe everythin' is destined.
and i believe the hypnotisation can ease my pain.

but if the pain is already eased, so is the happiness that ensues.
who can really tell?


i am the peach .

written @ 10:00 pm on 06.03.04




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