dreams fallen

Like a mirage in the haze of a neon nite - the dim light of a lantern, the last witness to someone else's promises. Everything seems to dissolve in this fleeting half-sleep: faces, dreams, the sound of the drum, torn from nerves. Even sunglasses don't offer relief from the pain here - they just hide the eyes where a storm has already taken root. The music sounds like an attempt to catch your breath after an internal fire. Each line is a fragment of a burned photograph, each chord is like a blow against my own walls. The world is breaking quietly, without pathos, but with the dignity of those who know how to burn until the end. And yet, somewhere between disorientation and peace, tenderness slips thru: a tired but stubborn desire to save - anyone, even oneself.