Saturday, December 19, 2009

The Depressionist's Notes

Lost then , never found , a silenced sound
Speaks to me and lets me think
In a time where stalemate resides
And inference comes in terms
With a life filled with void decides
A nothing to everything.
Flipping through the endless pages
The answers await in the remains
And that indifference since ages
It all makes perfect sense

Lost then, bright are that moves in real
Not in the infancy of my dreams
But in the picture perfect of that theme
That barely remembers , a stone came before
This melted fragment who looked into your core
And asked why ? Soon gone , no alibi
Transcending into a voiceless ocean
Moving through these endless streams
The questions died in the remains
For once they smiled at this indigo
Now embraces a perfect present tense


This is my last trash of the year. Thanks ... Ragpicker !