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How things are.How things are.

.I was reading some things.
.made me realize that I'm not all.
.that much different than from what i think is great.
.I realized as well that I'm not all that much different.
.from what I think is crazy either.

.I wonder when we get to that point in life.
.if such things don't really matter that much anymore.
.Just my strange way of seeing things.
.Maybe they're not that strange after all.

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Submitted: March 18, 2004
Image Size: 292 KB
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Music from the other roomby ~FineLine

Customization / Wallpaper / Abstract

Cigerette smoke floats in the air to my room.
He sits there, in the other room, hunched over the keys, one hand threaded in his hair, a cigerette dangling from his lip, and a glass of sherry on the floor near his foot.

He plays for me.
Single fingers playing broken keys.
And I find myself loving him for it.
Love him for his music.
Love him for his magic
Love him for his madness