raindrops taste like tears

thursday 22nd august @ 11:27 p.m.

i am sitting on cold earth under dark trees. there is no romantic glimmer on the sea tonight. no soothing murmur of sleepy wildlife. drumming hovers in the humidity.

the stories i write have no endings. no conclusions. is it even possible to have an end when all our tales are woven into one slithering net of synchronicity? how will my story end? with the passing of my unconscious influence over others, and more until my mannerisms are repeated in a hundred different faces?

is this enough? am i not supposed to leave a gift, a light, a moment of wisdom that will guide my loved ones?

in a dreamstate force a finale of quiet triumph. of a contentment that allows us to rest easy in our unsettled minds.

"strange how laughter looks like crying with no sound, raindrops taste like tears, without the pain."