[“Bornotto B” – Protogroup]
This will most likely be very weird for most people who stumble here. However, I’ll make an explanation before I enter this. Since I have always believed text and scripted words are primitive in communication, text and words alone can never explain my thoughts. Fortunately, it is myself that ‘need’ to know solely. For everyone else who samples this, it’s just jibberish that belongs in the trash, or worst yet, in a caged asylum. I rather be trash than caged.
From my perspective…
Yellow. Lines. My lines. It’s transparent. It hurts, my wrist. Song, cannot connect. Missing. Gone. Most likely forever. Square. White, but not. Infinity. I’m there. Floating, circles, round and round. Bornotto @ -3:06, where are you? Mist, vague, see me. Lights, dimmed, fog, that painting on that wall. Does not exist. Candles, chatter, tea. Going back, the smirks. My card, his hands, bank. Money always flowing, going. Gone like my mind. Past.
Rivers, dome. Flags, jealousy. Died. Leather jacket. Sad. Red flag. Place in ruin, but familiar. @ -1:00. Rocks, pebbles, dirt road. Walking. She’s there. I was there. I am here. Take away. Gone. Lake, still. Brother, fishing. Mom, sowing. Skies, sunset, no sun, glowing, twinkle twinkle. Transition. Beautiful. Where are you?
@ -7:57. Ripples. I miss. Mercury, reflection. I’m there. Freedom. I miss that place. I miss that time. I miss myself.
Luna. River. Fraser. South. 5am. Long time ago. Talking. Fresh air. The sea. Above, up there, far away. Five. Trails. Nebula, galaxies, stars, millions of falling stars. @ -6:06. Infinity.
Going. Gray. Silver. Titanium. Brother. Transparent. Cursed. Painting. Water colours. Paint with me. Flowers. Mountains. No more games. Games. Reach out. Falling, always falling. Then flying.
Tease. Ying and yang, the moon. Battling, fighting, never-ending. Tired.
What do you want to do? Always asking.
[“Pura Fingu Angelli Spicatta” – Protogroup]
@ -2:02. Powerful, killing me, smiling. Love it all. Wish it can penetrate my all. Wish it can go beyond those gates. Wish it can break through. I wish so much. Need to be released. I feel fortified. I feel so strong inside. I feel cold. My blood cold. Feel like IT is fighting back the cold. Who’s winning? Words becoming primitive again. No more power. Less influence.
@ -2:20. Like Emperor Pu Yi. Yellow, golden yellow. Transparent. Kings. Ancestral grounds. Far away. Modern. Gone. How do they do it? Brother. Where did you go?
Small. Hiding. Supressing. Darkness very comfortable. Wish I can speak in music. Singular. Launch. Take me away from here.
Circling. Global, not me. Not here. Need release. Violin. Like immortality. How much longer? Paintings. That light, vague, dimmed, foggy. Time to go. It no longer hangs there. That place no longer exists. Those people no longer go there. That door no longer opens. That space is now occupied by different things. Yet my shadow lingers, forgetting its master, forgetting me.
I feel blinded by all this light. Burning. Drowning my dreams. Taking away my all. Taking away my soul, and what’s left of it.
I think I can see, what it was trying to protect me from. Is it too late now? I feel it’s too late, yet, my gut feels like there is a back exit.
I see two suns. I wish I can share that sight, but what they see will be darkness, and they get scared and move away. They open their eyes too wide. Never trust closing them for once. I listen with my mind, I touch with my emotions, I see with my the tips of my fingers.
The world is corrupted and rotten, and though life gives a lot, it also is unforgiving. My words, shallow. Primitive.
When you must, you do, yellow, transparent, vague. Dimmed. Lighted.
Water. Where would you like to go?