Before a line appears it is just dust. Smaller and smaller particles heading aimlessly in circles, clashing and avoiding and combining until somewhere, some of it settles. And then, there’s a choice. A moment of decisive infinity where we look ahead and predict what we cannot ever see and hope we are the oracle of […]

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In the moments of quiet, Stolen amongst the chaos of being Truth reveals itself, Calm in its skin. And when the silence is shattered, And the world forces it’s way in Then truth becomes hidden, And life can begin.

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An idea comes as a spark, Little more. It needs nurturing To be what it can be, A flame into a fire. And when it catches, Ignites, It can be impossible to put out. And that idea burns through you Until it consumes everything, And becomes everything, And then… It is extinguished, As it starts […]

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To be young Is to search for meaning And find none To age Is to find the meaning In being young.

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It’s never how we want And rarely how we hope. When how things are show themselves, Escaping from the shadow and deceit of what we thought, We can sink down into the vacated darkness Or swim against the tar-like tide, Resisting the shackles of what could easily be. A life is never lived without regret […]

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Nothing about this city fits A disparate noise of clashing ideas and ideals Colours merging into one swirling distorted rainbow Dreams and despair existing in each others space, A feeling that can’t be articulated or caught to be tried. It’s nothing all at once as been everything it could ever be, Spoilt for choice in […]

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I think too much And with comes a distrust of time Because time is always leading To be chased and never caught And thinking too much wastes too much And once wasted it’s never reclaimed It’s gone And time forgets So all we thought Is nothing except the scattered ashes of yesterday Blown away in […]

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There’s masks And costumes And we choose according to day and mood and crowd We become what we wish them to see To know But the covers sometimes slip And expose what we tried to keep hidden The truth of nothing Because who we are is a secret to us most of all.

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