treefingers

I find myself in a state of surreal existence. whats being mistaken as depth, is mainly contributed to the late night hours of diluted attention and the gentle sound of radiohead, crackling away smoothly as it always has, but never has before. it surely has been a long while since i have last utter words about my ever so confusing lifestyle. a mix of addiction and purpose has gotten me into a complex battle against my insecurities where the choice of wielding words like swords takes a proxy between the reality of the situation. yet life goes on as it always done. i feel as if im a tourist, visiting a stranger in another form. i have overcomed insomnia since, yet i choose to torture my mind, but feed my soul.

sometimes beauty has no lyrics. words, description, and type have led to an obsession of expression. express yourself or die. we often forget that some of the most indescribable things in truth. no, its not silence, its just music. the sound of discourse is pleated by the beautiful, beautiful sound of treefingers. will this beauty reverberate as long as the truth can last.