The smudges of scraping digital paint. This is a guitar. The instrument of music and sound.
Fingers find a rhythm to play. The rhythms that draw towards you. The beats of compelling emotion.
I’ve been downloading your expressions onto my heart drive. A metaphorical storage that just weren’t fill up.The space is vast.
Not like the digital drive. The brain is of a A4 paper. I wonder what surface-space this heart drive has?
I’ve just uploaded your expressions into the bottom, Deeper part of the drive. I’ll just decide which expression I want to keep and which one to delete.
(This is just me just randomly, creating a sub-genre of poetry and lyrics – it probably doesn’t make any sense).
When you twist a bulb you’ll see the light,
And all you can do is wonder
Why do I not just shine?
When the psychology of your mind twists your imagination,
You realise you’ve been hidden from a generation,
A generation that never spoke of you,
Tears twist under the surface of your eyes,
You realise fighting the reality was never right,
Only to linger in the cocoon of the spotless mind.
A sub-genre of
Poetry and lyrics.