Asghar Abbas's Blog - Posts Tagged "q"
serge marshennikov
Moon is beautiful out tonight. But somehow it still manages to be a little bit ruinous. Even in all that ruination, its presence is quite persuasive. Despite that, there were only two ways I could have gone. I had a choice to either give up all that that made me human or give up being with other humans. I wasn't wrong, or in the wrong, but in that moonlight what I did was wrong. Guess, which road I took? The thing is, the moonbeams that you are feeling on your face right now, cool and balmy, it's not real but we can make it so.
For. For thirteen years, we were out there in the desert. Ambling around in those desolate, barren wastelands. We didn't care, we knew what we knew, but didn't mind what we knew. In the winterlands, we walked for our past, freezing but moshing on. No woes, nothing to lament. We weren't happy but getting there. We knew the way. We had seen the end. We were on our way, mutual extinction on our mind, our collective spirits weary, yet we sprinted on. We moved on and onward, wanting to be united with those who were estranged from us, not knowing that we were becoming strangers with those already there with us. Isn't that strange? What is there, what's in there is in there. It cannot be taken out, you can't take it out. Try all you want to, but you just can't kill the desert. You can only be there and keep it within you.
What was she doing, holding still, standing by herself colored in darkness, crowds thronging around, eating their souls in front of her
stuck in between like a single moth stirring among the butterflies a lost moljac fluttering farther and farther away from home at an unknown place of rest, a desk awaited her, if she's lucky some pencils blinking fast and rapidly she was trying to take it all in, in her solitary stance so later she could write it down all of it, sketch she should, write everything so that she could forget it.
But. But. Come on, you are better than that or maybe you are not, what do I know ?
maybe you are as dumb as you are pretending to be but one thing is for sure, you have ruined butterflies for me, you little weirdo.
Because. I have so many things to do but not one of them is you. I don't want a reckoning of any sort, not interested, I want an awakening. As you can see, Fourth Wall doesn't mean much to me, I don't care about it anymore. I want to break down all the walls there are, especially the Wall of Jericho.
Everyone wants to leave an impression on me. I am only looking to impress you and impress upon you the importance of you.
My days do not even belong to me
but my nights, my nights are only for you.
For. For thirteen years, we were out there in the desert. Ambling around in those desolate, barren wastelands. We didn't care, we knew what we knew, but didn't mind what we knew. In the winterlands, we walked for our past, freezing but moshing on. No woes, nothing to lament. We weren't happy but getting there. We knew the way. We had seen the end. We were on our way, mutual extinction on our mind, our collective spirits weary, yet we sprinted on. We moved on and onward, wanting to be united with those who were estranged from us, not knowing that we were becoming strangers with those already there with us. Isn't that strange? What is there, what's in there is in there. It cannot be taken out, you can't take it out. Try all you want to, but you just can't kill the desert. You can only be there and keep it within you.
What was she doing, holding still, standing by herself colored in darkness, crowds thronging around, eating their souls in front of her
stuck in between like a single moth stirring among the butterflies a lost moljac fluttering farther and farther away from home at an unknown place of rest, a desk awaited her, if she's lucky some pencils blinking fast and rapidly she was trying to take it all in, in her solitary stance so later she could write it down all of it, sketch she should, write everything so that she could forget it.
But. But. Come on, you are better than that or maybe you are not, what do I know ?
maybe you are as dumb as you are pretending to be but one thing is for sure, you have ruined butterflies for me, you little weirdo.
Because. I have so many things to do but not one of them is you. I don't want a reckoning of any sort, not interested, I want an awakening. As you can see, Fourth Wall doesn't mean much to me, I don't care about it anymore. I want to break down all the walls there are, especially the Wall of Jericho.
Everyone wants to leave an impression on me. I am only looking to impress you and impress upon you the importance of you.
My days do not even belong to me
but my nights, my nights are only for you.
