Madeousia™

The Afterlife.



2017.8.24
The zero day of Afterlife.

 
 

“Will we meet again?”
"No. Not in this life."
Then a single gunshot.

 
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In the night
At the penthouse
Beneath a suit
I saw an Angel
wanting to have me murdered
I ran into the air
With my paraglider
It flew along
With its wings

 
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She sended me a video from the Live. Tom, playing the piano. The way the notes dump yet soothing. The feelings. The lucid sense all over. The impulse to cry. The tiny clues. The light. The sound. The adaptation he made. The gestures they make.
Where is she now? Where is he now? Somewhere closer or farther away from the place I am now? Where did the melody go? Flowing in the night somewhere. Walking in the night somewhere. What am I getting now?
Oh, god. God. God. I don't know. God.

 
 

The desire to be seen. Not only to be seen, but to be seen on the good side. But only being seen on the good side wouldn't suffice. Only when after the bad side has been seen, the good side still can be seen, then it will probably suffice.

 
 
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