The Sad, The Happy, The Mad; The Everything

10. in darkness so beautiful

Destruction so disastrous

Destruction so dark

Destruction so beautiful.

And just so deep.

Cannot word the darkness, especially one like this

A paradox in its own rhyme.

Caught up in one's own mind nonetheless harder to define

Extraordinary difficult, nevertheless one must try to waltz through one like this

This timely attempt

The ones I must call my own

Circling spins flips

Whilst fingers grasp handfuls of bed sheets

Curled lips, shut eye lids

Destruction so dark, it îs beautiful

So dark it is. A different kind of heavenly. So wistful it soon becomes peaceful to reminisce into

Like the leaves in autumn, the ones that hang on longer but soon will fall twirling down into the air

Or the fires that die after licking at salt water bleached wood, fires that come from beautifully pallor bones

So dark it becomes,

Sometimes it's quiet and other times it deems loud. But right now there is no need for sound.

I do not make sound in a darkness so delicate. Nor do I underestimate the soft immense emotions that come with

It can break me just as easily. As it seems fit

Terrible habits of drowning, visiting underwater carousels.

Is this why I don't bother with sound?

So much of the dark has soaked in. But why do I still hear sound?

Destruction so beautiful, its soft key melodies playing undisturbed. It is an unaware disturbance.

Twisting and turning in my stillness.

Covering my mouth,

not to afraid of what might come out. But of the things that certain silence can't do without.

And sometimes silence is violent.

Just as darkness turns into unseen violence.

Hush

And Listen

Now taste the strange salt,

In a mind of deep sunken darkness where the dark has beauty and the sadness is far too drunk in lovely

To think I'm awake somewhere of

Destruction so beautiful...