“All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.” (Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray)
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luni, 28 noiembrie 2011
Just a thought
I hid some memories under the dust of ashes,
I simply could not burn those special days,
I barely keep them behind the made-up lashes,
Although you might have found some better ways.
Patience may seem a weapon of the winners,
But such huge crap the faith can be once in a while,
And I've been running out of cigarettes for days now,
And battery runs out each time I want to dial.
Maybe we did not actually share the same cup of the coffee,
But still we were more than just fellows before,
We did not warm those sheets, but heat them;
But tell me you would hold my hand for more.
Downtown in stores they finished all the smiles,
They filled the shelves with alcoholic grimes,
And I often get bored, just like a spoiled child,
Of all the toys, except my teddy bear for dreams.
No extra space is where there's no more than one chair,
Sound waves of a guitar bring no anti-routine vaccine,
One player for a game of chess, who wins, doesn't mean fair,
I still think we would make together a great team.
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