nocturnal

October, 2010 : Beit Mery

mountains are dead stones
humans are meat on bones
open arms can feel so cold
but the sand is always warm

time collapsing to the sound of aging
i can hear the clock ticking
few to exist, less to disappear
re-whisper those words in my ear

extreme psychotic feelings
weird gestures without meanings
no cure for any addiction
cartoon caracter visions

sleep to nocturnal’s mornings
wake to them silent and sleeping