Bloodstains Memory Morning

The broken beat drums loosely echoed through the background with the midnight’s rain as the sun begins to shed a grey powdered morning behind the wet white clouds as the misty dews and remaining reminiscence of the showers flutters in the calm soft waves of the winds. The out of tune guitar screeches its electrical cries in the incoherent symphony that is accompanied by the subtle tickles of the violin’s strings. The streets are slowly filled with the gushing sea of traffic as the cars made their way to the daily routines of insignificant lives oblivious to the rhythms of the instruments mentions.

A voice dances with the music in the most chaotic ways. A voice that is tired and in despair with the outcomes of reality struggles to execute her trance like ritual which even though had drained her out of her physical energy and replaced it with a feeling that is indescribable by mere words. The words from her voice drag itself in a repetitive manner and blend itself effortlessly with the sound of the weird noises. Chaotic Beauty.

The Bloodstains of my Elementary Lunchbox Memory. It gives me poetry of Symphony. Baby don’t Believe my heart!!

The short brown hair of this choiring angel bounces with the perfect choreography with the rhythms under her light brown fedora that is placed in a crooked manner due to the dance. Her faded by cigarettes pink lips trembles in front of the rusty metals of the microphone as she whispers the poetry of her broken soul. Her small almost skeletal soft white hands gripping the body of the microphone in a begging style hoping that her voice is correctly amplified.

The weary room that is only laminated by the morning sun and a flickering table lamp holds as the stake for this broken soul musicians.  Fogs of smokes mystified the room as flickers of the cigarettes lights in a fireflies dance. Washed out wallpapers hangs like branches of a dead tree as the wet patches on the floor dries in a wine colour stains.

She sings in despair of a joyous memory. She dances to the thoughts of a now forgotten time. She smiles in hidden misery. Her eyes that barely open stares into the blank space of frightening future. She sings in truth of a liar’s imaginations.

She sings in a lost lover quest.

She sings in hope of an unknown path.

She sings in shadow of modern covers.

She sings…



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