death always gives rise to something more beautiful and i just stopped your heart from beating. i wonder what i will be able say to you tomorrow as i look at you in the eyes and all you see is another grain in the sand, another empty city, another masterpiece.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
the architect gets all the glory.
"deaf and lost" i guess. grains of sand in the wind making mile high dunes, empty cities filled with workers and their tasks while we sat there fighting quixotic battles in our minds. we were the dilettantes in our own catharsis: the masterpiece of our own existentialist wasteland.
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