The Painting

Stranded.
The vision from wide focus ​shows a landscape of an uphill climb.
A sea of red lights, in a tapestry woven that intertwines with white flashes.
The melody the streets make is soothing, with cold raindrops​s that’s cooling.

Hot moments, cascade the forecast of a tempered being, trying to make reason of these senseless feelings.
Where are they?

This Island moves on rubber wheels, while they float on invisible seats.
The silence is dee ​when she​ and he​ speak.
So they fill the empty void with compatible speech.


Movies I would like to watch

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Poetry

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