quietly i paused and contemplatein the afternoon of heat and dust
i always live in the past
thinking of my branching tragedies
He's into poetry again. He hides his smile once more, gazes at the sable parts of the room and wears his black shirt again.... He's in a state of dreary, plunged into desolation. He stares at the picture of memory and puts his thoughts running again.... He is looking for something. He wonders and lays on his bed, works hard to deceive his sentiments but the tick tocks keep increasing....
Wasted Times
quietly i paused and contemplatein the afternoon of heat and dust
i always live in the past
thinking of my branching tragedies
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© 2010-2014 Darem Placer
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