Untitled #2

Jun 12, 2009 by Rose

We dance the dance of the mentally insane, turning and twisting through the blackened rubble beneath our feet. Ash rises and fills the air in rhythmic union to the movements. Mourning the loss of innocence we twirl around and round, spinning ourselves into a state of mind where there is no one else but the pictures of what was. In our mind you cannot see, in our thoughts you cannot hear and still we whirl and twirl around and round, seeking the place that was before but is no more.