Words fail me. Not emotions.
Just my plain denial of the English vocabulary.
Clouds percolated into my bloodstream. It injected a tragic bearing on my soul, despite the inspiring, philosophical overtones.Lying on my back absorbing every last sound in a dim room with maroon flavours and a shelf of unread books. I was cheated out of myself in the song; the ideal, and the me separated, seeping into the carpet below.
I haven't been in the same place since; but I have seen clouds on fire.
I have walked many miles and seen many clouds.
Pilgrimages have been made to the wind, then to the Southern Alps.
The Sun has been visited in bloodshot orange evenings sandwiched between a mourning cloud of deep purple, and embracing curvatures of midnight blue.
The trees fiery, glowing orange; four weights, the clouds, bowed to Sun in lofty strata; absorbing sunset spectrum. The ferry winked, the plane gleamed. The sky falling into an Islamic blue bowl, deepend only by the mid-winter stars. God, the stars.
Matariki.
Smashed. Fragmented. Broken into by hyper, soporose, hypnotic, somnolent, narcotic, soporific, opiate, somniferous bloodshot face throat singing.
Burst. Collided. Fractured. Sideswiped by an explosive mouth covered in blood; bleeding from the mouth that is the heart. Cauterizing my orbit of unsettled love.
But now, incomplete, Pinkfloyd speaks; to high hopes returned.
The clouds serene; the tragic bearing of an un-lived life rooted in the stomach pit.
The juvenile rhythm in simple harmonic motion; the bells tantalizing.
The to and fro had just set sail; 'dragged by the force of some inner tide'.
'Encumbered forever by desire and ambition
There's a hunger still unsatisfied
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon
Though down this road we've been so many times
The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river
Forever and ever'
The sadness that wreaks havoc in moments of ineffable beauty.
Condemn the playlist.
I really don't know clouds at all'.
Just my plain denial of the English vocabulary.
Clouds percolated into my bloodstream. It injected a tragic bearing on my soul, despite the inspiring, philosophical overtones.Lying on my back absorbing every last sound in a dim room with maroon flavours and a shelf of unread books. I was cheated out of myself in the song; the ideal, and the me separated, seeping into the carpet below.
I haven't been in the same place since; but I have seen clouds on fire.
I have walked many miles and seen many clouds.
Pilgrimages have been made to the wind, then to the Southern Alps.
The Sun has been visited in bloodshot orange evenings sandwiched between a mourning cloud of deep purple, and embracing curvatures of midnight blue.
The trees fiery, glowing orange; four weights, the clouds, bowed to Sun in lofty strata; absorbing sunset spectrum. The ferry winked, the plane gleamed. The sky falling into an Islamic blue bowl, deepend only by the mid-winter stars. God, the stars.
Matariki.
Smashed. Fragmented. Broken into by hyper, soporose, hypnotic, somnolent, narcotic, soporific, opiate, somniferous bloodshot face throat singing.
Burst. Collided. Fractured. Sideswiped by an explosive mouth covered in blood; bleeding from the mouth that is the heart. Cauterizing my orbit of unsettled love.
But now, incomplete, Pinkfloyd speaks; to high hopes returned.
The clouds serene; the tragic bearing of an un-lived life rooted in the stomach pit.
The juvenile rhythm in simple harmonic motion; the bells tantalizing.
The to and fro had just set sail; 'dragged by the force of some inner tide'.
'Encumbered forever by desire and ambition
There's a hunger still unsatisfied
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon
Though down this road we've been so many times
The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river
Forever and ever'
The sadness that wreaks havoc in moments of ineffable beauty.
Condemn the playlist.
Such moments of transcendental sound and colour.
And yet such isolation.
'From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recallI really don't know clouds at all'.
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