Occasionally you get angry on your horselaugh.
occasionally the heart wants to make everyone laugh.
occasionally we hide our anguish in some corner of our heart.
occasionally I feel like telling everything to someone.
noway cry indeed when there are millions of sorrows.
And occasionally the heart feels like slipping gashes just like that.
occasionally it feels good to bat free, but occasionally I feel like getting confined in someone's arms.
occasionally we suppose that commodity new should be in life.
And occasionally the heart just wants to live like this.
Occasionally you get angry on your horselaugh.
occasionally the heart wants to make everyone laugh.
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis6 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
Beautiful