Into a never ending illusion. Like in a psychic black hole, caught by its gravitational gradients, unable to discern what's real and what's not. I feel like writing on a wall and an strange noise brings me back to break the spell that I was building around myself. Leaving a strange taste in my mouth, much like if I am eating out my own flesh. And this is something I will regret, sooner or later. When the time comes to draw another line and put on the scales the good and the evil I've done, I know I may see that the missing flesh I disrupted would have been helpful in raising the good.I surely destroyed it... even the words stand securely locked in my head. No way to let them loose. And time passes by, leaving just regret.for what is not completed. For the occasions I lost, for the things left undone.Sitting by a river, watching the waters and trying to find some kind of answer. Answer to a question that nobody asked yet. Trying to figure out what's wrong, why life never gives answers.Putting together fears, desires, hopes and them in form of melody, a strange instrument playing for itself, drawing images in the brittle air, leaving on my retina a passing image of a beauty that's Fragile, like a leaf in a whirlwind. Fragile, like a man who's struggling to understand the reasons, the meaning, the paths of a life he doesn't comprehend, but just undergoes.The sound of silence ends with illusion.....