there is a paranoia i will not speak about.
there is a fear i will not vocalise.
my feet are flat and hurt when i walk now. sometimes my entire foot goes numb and my toes cramp. sometimes i feel spikes taking advantage of my fallen arches and destructing my feet. but my fingers still work well.
the balls of my fingers has adjusted well to the fret board.
having music work out beneath my finger tips has always given me this beautiful feeling of power.
what i would like very much is to be taken to some hill top, sit there with good company, a bottle of sherry and some nice pizza, in the night, and be able to look over the entire city, with the lights meeting the sky at the horizon. i long to feel chilled air, like its just been taken out from the fridge.
i think this lack of inspiratioin is because im devoid of intensity. just that. nothing else.
heath leadger is dead. overdose they said. what a waste of talent. it hurts me, though i do not know him. he was a good actor. he was really good. and demure. i wonder if it was suicide. if it wasnt, i wonder if at any point of time after the collapsed he because terrified?
death.
we have no time to waste.
none at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment