Life’s like a lobotomised impression inside a golden skull; too cheap to bury, too expensive to keep. A Stradivari of motionless complexities, all sailing south, monstrosities, as forbidden banners of condemned rebellions… Tied to the mast of someone else’s travels, on sleepless waves of no more dreams to catch, blinded lighthouses towering over shipwrecked carcasses … Continue reading A metric analysis of impossible rhymes…
Month: June 2016
Amazing traces…
Please watch before reading, and listen while you read: The Idan Raichel Project - Hakol Over (Everything passes) I need you to dream the colour of spaces, the time between midnight, tomorrow and trees, I beg you to fathom amazing traces, layers of clouds returning to seas… I dare you to picture small shells of … Continue reading Amazing traces…
Abandoned eagles…
A flow of matter, crossing bridges paved with idle rivers, of constant wars between no sides, for kings and kingdoms rather old… How bitter all the odds, when knights die young and simply for no reason, alone with horses mourning by their sides, while all the humble flowers of each season, spell intricate mementoes on … Continue reading Abandoned eagles…
If the world was built for me
If the world was built for me. There would be nothing wrong with me. I would be happy and safe and certain and successful.
If the world was built for me, when I met people there would be no expectation of physical contact or small talk. We may ignore each other, with a socially acceptable nod, or throw ourselves into a deep and meaningful conversation.
If the world was built for me, then we would all sit next to each other, not opposite. Things would be based on literal words, not guessed expressions and gestures.
If the world was built for me, there would be a compulsory day off for everyone after any social event. Just so we could all take the time to recharge and process things.
If the world was built for me, work would be about working and nothing else. There wouldn’t be the necessary interaction that…
View original post 503 more words
To my autistic diary…
When its motion stopped, I realised that my circle of life became an insignificant spot, desperate, frightened, alone, like a tired fire juggler abandoned by an audience too dull to notice the beauty of the single detail constructing their illusion… “How odd” he said, “In vitro, every now and then becomes a schism embedded deep … Continue reading To my autistic diary…
Agnosis…
It’s not important to remember days, and wonder why has our time become so slow; it doesn’t matter anymore if there’s no thunder, after the rain, before the bow… It matters not why in our backyard’s desert, there are no camels and the Bedouins have left; what truly matters is a sense of water, illusion … Continue reading Agnosis…
THEORETICAL PHILOSOPHY 
You must be logged in to post a comment.