Jimmy was a simple boy, with nothing to lose and no one to hold, nevertheless as he's told. Lying in bed, with a headache to the neck - he abruptly took hold of his quill and ink, writing endlessly the words: "I cannot think." his punishment that was given by his weakest link. The only thing he looked forward, was the simplicity of his bathroom sink, staring lifelessly at the mirrors he so splattered with red ink.
"I cannot think."
"I cannot think."
"Through red ink, blood drips."
He awoke in cold sweat, dreaming in he's bed - as he so depressingly wept, tears of joy to no clairvoyance. An anvil of pain, suffering and rain, he so desperately craved and longed throughout the day. Memories of unbridged nostalgia, covered in sorrow and remorse surrounding his cornea. It ended as anything but, the truth has hidden behind their lust. One name he wrote against decree, her name sounding like an angel of glee.
"Oh, sweet Marie,"
"Wrap your arms around me."
Jimmy closed his eyes once more, only to find her blue iris' of lore, teaching him how to love once more. Worrying about him with her heart soaring, they hurried to the river, with an unfinished drawing. Held in the palms and the soul of another, they held it in front of the slow and unpaved river.
"The River of Lore."
"None other, a silenced roar."
Marie delicately positioning her painted escape, they both closed their eyes and began to wait. The hourglass turned, and so did their heartbeats, figures of awe - as they grimaced at the river that began to run faster before Dawn. The book of secrets, dreams and diligence, that created dreams, nightmares and unworthy deliverance. An art that is so perfect, though flawed within ink blots that create insanity to delirium, above and beyond. Tainted with visions of retorts and remarks. How utterly ironic and diplomatic, an endless spiral of romantic antic.
Continued In:
Eternal Memoirs of the Mind - A Journal
