He's Just standing there like he has been every day for the past year As she trudges toward home. His gaze is cool and measured. He's never spoken to anyone As far as she can see, and they never speak to him. His hair is long, the color of a muddy stream bank, As it slithers down His back like a snake, a serpent proffering a gift from the tree of knowledge. And his eyes are sparkling diamonds reflecting a thousand different colors. Twisting like a pinwheel, dancing like a sacred fire. The eye of the storm. Eerily calm. On the verge of destruction, Of Corruption. The years have not been kind to him. Body weathered. Layers jagged and rough as sandpaper. Eroded like sandstone. Wind gusting through and scattering away the sediment of his happiness 'til all that is left is the Pain of the losses he's met. And they consume him. The licking flames devouring until all that are left are the charred remains. Lips cold and tinted like ice. Never smile. Never frown. Just wonder in a silence which is outward,never inward. Never inward! The images projected to his brain by his eyes translate to music in his soul. Strange, wonderful, haunting music. And he'd like to write a symphony, but what's the point When no one would listen anyway? His mind is afloat in a sea and the tides are turning daily As he wanders and drifts through the myriad of colors. The spirits surround him And speak in his mind. Chanting a thousand times over again. But the record's not broken, and the track continues uninterupted Until a new album falls into place.
Reason for writing:
I was listening to Elanor Rigby and thinking about being alone.
About all of the people I see on the street who have stories to tell,
if only we'd listen
Birth sign: Leo
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