What a cure is this! Sitting in starlight, seemingly nothing around; an opera of crickets. How majestic is this cure for melancholic men! And, yet, today its effects are greatly diminished by more than one factor... my depression is paramount, and the crickets... ay, ay, ay, the crickets are an invitation for tears.
My, what stars all around! And, yet, what sad a night is this with no moon! And how lonseome. I struggle to find a companion, yet but for this pen I have none.
Where have all the good friends gone? And, where, oh where, the lover?
Send me letters wishing me a brighter tommorow, moon... For you I'll wait the night. But certainly, when the night is gone, the sun'll replace you!
Ah, my soul, 'tis you and me, tonight. You, me, and the crickets. And this cure for melancholy is the origination of the damned disease.
-Adonescence
{kwoo§hie}* said...
print. compile. sell.
what happens to your counter when you reach 1000 site hits?
Adonis said...
Thanks, kooshie... I miss you! About the counter, it expands.