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Based on a series of tweets I came across from Smash Wox, and compounded by what was a miserable day for me. Negative emotions do make such contemplative music, though....
For a wox whom I care deeply for but don't know how to reach out to. For a fox who I want to approach but just seem to get burned instead sometimes, without knowing why. For the only person I know who can go where my music goes, without me. I want to share this woxes grief, but he exists on a completely different level than I. And so, despite living near each other, caring for each other, and sharing our experiences, I cannot help but feel seperated. Thus, so shall this etude be one of isolation.
I can only pray that some day I'll be able to understand him better; to become a better aid and a better friend, but I fear what he needs, I simply cannot provide. Time will tell.
For a wox whom I care deeply for but don't know how to reach out to. For a fox who I want to approach but just seem to get burned instead sometimes, without knowing why. For the only person I know who can go where my music goes, without me. I want to share this woxes grief, but he exists on a completely different level than I. And so, despite living near each other, caring for each other, and sharing our experiences, I cannot help but feel seperated. Thus, so shall this etude be one of isolation.
I can only pray that some day I'll be able to understand him better; to become a better aid and a better friend, but I fear what he needs, I simply cannot provide. Time will tell.
Category Music / All
Species Bovine (Other)
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 7.9 MB
It was raining again. The stark wetness seeps into his soul as he braces himself against the alley wall, dragging his fingers across the soggy remains of many a long-forgotten venue poster. The grief had passed. There were no tears left. There was nothing but the wet. The wet, and the cold, and a numbness beyond the threshold of his own empathy. With slumped shoulders, he sinks to the ground, the fabric of his jeans soaked through and marinating in the filth of that lonely side-street. Despite the rain, he turns his eyes skyward, staring blankly into the gray as icy droplets sting his cheeks, pelting him without remorse. A break in the clouds reveals a faint glimmer of sunlight, however briefly, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared as if to remind him of what he once had, and what was now lost. His chest heaved at the thought. Lowering his gaze, he continued to sob.
There were no tears left. Only memories.
Thanks for the music. =3
There were no tears left. Only memories.
Thanks for the music. =3
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