stood there;
him with face without blood. pale, numb but not sick. just making that irritating face -- with his thoughts flying around him in constant brisk. constantly hold him in emptiness, nail him on deep gesture. probably a lot of thoughts of angel might come down for him saying a "wassup yo.." or "were you dead already dude?.." kinda. well, that kinda thoughts is not worth to presume on him if one never understand him when the sat is on the blue moon.
stood silently;
with him felt no excitement to move on. alas the evening mood swooshing on his gently-swinging rusty hair. alas the stars above spark in full of ego and might spit on him some hope. which probably won't entice any single spark of care from him. or any given pulse of desire to react. such a stone-head moron one can label on him. but him care no words nor spit of foul language.
stood alone;
with no guts left to confront him own argument. not even a simple issue of turn-left-or-right kinda. nonetheless, on the very alive part of him face -- eyeball, flash the glimpse of enigma sending out the message loud; today is not the day him die. the very him might more than happy to die but not today. this day felt so nice to start digesting the past mistake and feed him own adrenalin to die some other day. so much for the nice day to be alive motto. him might be me. me and him might share the very same fate. so be it. until a shooting star passes by, me will match me breathing with you, stone-head.
let's stood no more dude.
