A beautifull serenade...

[Hannibal]

The other night,
A dream did come to me,
Only to tickle my fancies with it's elaborateness.
I was able to stand solidly in place,
While moving together with my surroundings,
And analyze the deep corners and alcoves,
Of this very bright room.
All the while my bright yellow hat became stained.
Stained with blood, and dirt.
The water flowing over my body did not wipe it away,
As the dirt turned to mud and the blood fused with it,
Grinding into my hat.
How I wanted to stop those large hands that took my hat,
Whilst it sat on top of my head still,
And ground the dirt within the fibers.
I can't forget the stains,
Or the way the hat wouldn't clean.
It wouldn't forget it's past at all.
As I cried the hands teased the fibers,
Clean large strong hands,
Grinding it over and over as I watched in anger,
Horror, peircing distraught punctuating my mind.
The vivid memory reminding me that it's okay,
Because I look at the supreme reality,
Outside of my dream.
No more sweat upon my body.
As I hold my yellow hat within my hands,
As dirty as they are,
And place it fittingly upon my head,
Happy to be alive.

Now I sit watching,
Listening, carressing the thoughts of those,
Who also were a vivid reality to my life,
My being, my interactions with the world.
Those very same people now no longer exhistant.
Music so distant reaching my ears,
My mind holding it close,
As close as the memories of those whom I have lost,
Thos who are no longer vivid with color,
But blank with emptiness.



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As miserable as life may be I hold it pretty precious...

If I lose the light of the sun, I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light. If I lose paper and ink, I wil write in blood on forgotten walls. I will write always, I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you.

[doodoo]

Oh HoneyBall, your serenade made my eyes grow damp. So many spelling errors... such a shame

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Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeers!

[Hannibal]

Another user of semantics. Or perhaps the setup for such...
You don't become, you doo doo what you are , and we only do that because we are nothing. So I can do anything, which leaves me with the same thing I started with, nothing. But it's something to you, nothing to me, because you are nothing.

------------------
As miserable as life may be I hold it pretty precious...

If I lose the light of the sun, I will write by candlelight, moonlight, no light. If I lose paper and ink, I wil write in blood on forgotten walls. I will write always, I will capture nights all over the world and bring them to you.

[doodoo]

Well, being nothing surely implies an ocean of possibilities. I often indulge myself with such thoughts...
Cheers to you, young poet!

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Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeers!

[doodoo]

<center>Mirror, mirror on the wall</center>
<center>will I always be that small?</center>

<center>Oh, Mirror, mirror on the wall</center>
<center>do I need to be at all?</center>

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Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeers!