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Name ::Eric Dyer::
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Birthday ::January 22::
School ::North Texas::
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Major ::Drawing/Painting
Likes: (Music+LotsOfmusic) (WatchingMovies) (AdobeProducts) (Environment+Clean) (Art) (Parks) (FlyingKites+Picnics) (Couches) (FreeThings) (Photography)
(Spencers) (SharperImage) (British Comedy)
The silent roar of the fan blades
maneuver from the ceiling to the floor
in the most delicate dance of sound waves
A yellow tint is sent off
by a spiraling light in the corner
while an air filter hums delicately.
There is a broken pencil
on the side of the desk, by a blank keyboard;
silver paper clips are strewn across the room
There is a screen glowing and a man staring into it
His eyes are falling, but the will to stay awake is not
His mind races
much like the particles that are being thrown into the air
by the fan
by the filter
There is a fragile balance between friend and foe
thoughts linger in his mind
The waves crash onto the sand
He is happy. Happy.
He is worried about
the present, past, and future
As the curtain moves from the window
the stars shine through
the sky is a dark purple, and the clouds swirl in ecstasy.
The clouds swirl in fear
if the wind decides to end
their graceful waltz fades
The clouds know this
the man in the room knows this
everybody else however..
-so the clouds continue to swirl as the brain reels,
the light in the room bounces off mass to create colour
there is a tapping emerging from the keys of the board near the pencil
a filter sends a mist of clean air
spinning, round and round, goes the fan
ever continuing it's cycle
it knows no better, and that's no matter.
Aim ::Eric7633::
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Yahoo ::
[email protected]::
Msn ::
[email protected]::
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Location ::Denton, Texas::
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