Category: Tone

Here I am, standing in front of you as who I am now. But there is so much more of what I hide. Swings and lakes, the lightning stars that have died long ago and dreams I have chased, reminded me that even gods are meant to die. 

I haven’t lost my burning eyes for madness and what can be found at the borderline of insanity. It came to me quite easily that the price of priceless is death, and I have taken this price tag off before, gladly returned it. My hands are still able to feel some warmth. 

Throughout the last year, there were quite a few starts, and at my own cost, people have fooled me. Looking at the fool brings up a fool in me. But each scar of my soft skin makes me grow up, and at this point, I have a feeling that the warm blanket of sun rays is about to treat my skin well.

No matter the road, I accept my book of fate, where I have left quite many notes on empty pages ahead. What I am planning to write might not be up to the liking of many, but it has become a moving force for me. And whatever dues I will collect, I am ready to pay them when the due date comes.

I am used to the changing perception of the time. The swing from watching waterfall to being under it, and as time washes me, I dream of being outside. Standing and watching, not noticing how my skin gets covered in dust. Becoming so cold and hoping water will promise me some warmth.

I am highly confused of why am I logging in here. Month by month it has been four, and I received many emails reminding me that this is going down for missing payment, but it’s still live and running.
Is this some kind of reason? Because I haven’t been rhyming lately. It could be the noise that has teamed down and an old pony that takes most of my free time thinking.
I don’t feel nearly as crazy as I used to be, nor I feel the charm of it. Feeling quite ordinary. I don’t appreciate that, but makes it slightly easier to be.

Eaten by the shade, and I am wondering about the nature of crooked branches growing back. Scars and broken boughs, overgrown by thick knots, are ready to be broken and burnt again. Putting aside books of how it should be, handed at the birth, there are no more guidelines, nor there are limits set by page corners.
Made by my own flesh, I enter what was seen as no man’s land.

I undergo cycles of my life, probed by the sharp interceptions of my decisions. Braking speed limit becomes rather a choice than an impulse, and destination has become clear. Focus requires speed and perspective begs for a stop, the speed of an end makes me dizzy and I sweep for a backdoor.
Exit out of the new corner sheds light on my heels and it’s a dangerful field to be lost at. Here, where dots from old stitches reveal the light of the past, movement comes naturally. If not this, it’s the next door.

There is a charm to insanity, and I very much sympathise with the idea of madness. So much to be discovered at the borderline. Can serenity be found in craziness?
The uncontrollable and unpredictable buzzing, shouting and erratic movement, spontaneity in uncontrolled environment.
How this all form a dance, a song or a piece of art? I am so curious, at what price does priceless come?

Is there any value in never ending noise inside my head? I tend to believe there is, and will neglect any attempt to convince me otherwise!
There is a root to every thought and there are different ways to treat sprouting plants, at different levels. However, I never was a fan of the root cutting approach.
I find charming beauty in the natural balance of the wild forest, hence I very much prefer any plant to be. Even weed can be turned into the fuel, and all wild plants shall be given a chance to grow and transform.

March 10th, 2025, first day of this website and I already thought about deleting it. It’s wonderful, same day next year I might have a reason to get shit faced drunk, if it’s still live of course.
Let’s see where my attempt takes me, as practice shows, it might be a rocky road.

It has to start with something.