| Mood:- |
V I B R A N T |
| Music:- |
Mindsongs, scattered sentences and ice cream spoons |
Where is the cyan heart? Where is California pen pal? Where is he? Where is the friend that I will never have? Where is the best friend? Where is the laughing girl? Where is the saint? Where is the spider? Where is the twenty-nine-fisted rebel, anxious at the portal that leads to the truth?
Even the employees of the morgue are lost, opening and closing empty drawers one by one in the search for absent bodies. How do people disappear so easily? How do they slip past like whispers, so covertly growing distant and blurry with each muted misstep? Names once chanted are mispronounced and once vivid faces are eroded by waning memories. Why the ship of dust must come to claim souls in the pale grey of evening will always, always, always be a mystery... but such a frustrating one! There are questions upon questions that build and linger and fester around each missing life, piling up unanswered and stationary. With each season that passes, they remain silently, unattached to images or sounds or anything concrete, anything substantial. They are gone. They are not gone. Where, then? Where are they? |
