looking over a, somewhat dug-out hole...leaves me with more questions than anything, i think about who dug it, who will be the next to fill it in? where's the answer in dirt, sweat...grueling manual labor? would you ever want answers there? - a sort of, charismatic death, i presume "i got ready at noon, i took everything off by the time the sun came around, again." 'i wrote about fauna and the life they get to live, it was sort of "lively" - sort of not i think it trailed off in usual fashion, but the hard points still stood. flora, vegetative beauty, restorative in still, nature but never back to a form - we all know -a small difference in the ideal of regeneration or, restoration -too much in how i head-canon myself as the fauna ---oops '
a problem w/ writing is that it’s just words,
the problem w/ music is that it’s only sounds,
-the illustration, does it play towards, or work incredibly in its inverse to hold back the words?
does anyone still need pictures anymore? does anyone need to see the fires, the floods, a changing of the guards, passed time, still…
losing to win?
winning, just to set others for failure - you reap in the end, as usual!!
where to?
where towards,
xx
-alice
"would you ever want answers there? " shut uuuuuup! lol