Anna Jae

the pavement makes no soundas it touches your feetcalm and constantlike silence on repeatlanguidly your thoughts bleedinto the evening airin crimson red the words read'some things are beyond repair

you__e ignoring me so loud that it__ deafening. This silence is so deep that it__ echoing.

Such dreams provide this temporary illusion of a life that has meaning.

I cover the floor with a thin layer of imagination so that i__l always land softly.

To hide away from the world whose loveless heart has gone astrayand its inhabitants what could be a safer place than my imagination?

Trust isn__ something you can just one day decide to have. Trust cannot be fabricated out of thin air, no matter how one__ will is set to it. Trust has to be earned. And there__ the tragedy of it, the dependence on the other, who is often not up for the challenge, poisoned as he is by the modern individualistic and time-is-money mindset. And thus trust is losing ground more and more until one day it will turn into something rare and obscure and this world has become a severly violent and lonely place, ruled by mistrust and disconnection.

Music itself has taught me never to underestimate a mistake, for, in the midst of all, it__ often in that mistake where the realm of the unexpected creation is hidden.

Now me and musicplay hide and seek.

and now i am back in the grey world where it tastes like plastic, the monotony is buzzing through my jaws and the boredom is pulling my hair.

That throbbing thing in my chest can hardly be called a heart. It has been wrung out and deformed into something merely functional. Nothing can revive it.

...ever plagued by the naive hope that this timemy intuition might be mistaken...

she tries to envision spaceeven with her eyes open

There__ always books. And the wind through trees.

your facethrough the blurred visionof my disillusioned eyesmergeswith the rest of them.

oh, how bitterhow bitter silentthe bewildered sorrowof a texture too thickto be brought outthrough the eyes.

For the minority, what else is democracy than dictatorship?

When I am awake, I sleep, but when I dream I come to life.

The skin of her face,parched by the monotonous dietof salty rain,with tremendous effortgave wayto a smile.