Lately I've realized the simplicity of life.
As I meet more people, watching and learning as ever,
I come to see that the act of living is just too simple.

No man can ever know the truth of Satisfaction.
He only believes it to be real.

No man will ever be happy, in truth.
He can only be subject to pleasure

Morose as this is, There is no excuse.
No excuse for lying down and giving up.

The yellow lines we watch fly by are evidence that we move.
Only not so.
We go places, but we do not see them, We do not live them. We do not breathe them.

Still, there is no excuse.
It must be said that trying is the only way.

Simplicity is life. Trying is simple.

FallenSnowman

I realize that I have been rather absent in the past few months, no new photographs or even word art.

I'm not sure how many of my watchers have really cared to notice however... but for those who have I am grateful.

I've been investing most of my time in old-school film photography and, seeing as I have a distinctive lack of scanner, I have not been able to post my new art work.

As for my "poetry", I have no excuse, just not inspiration.

However, it has come to my attention that I may just be seen as lazy, and therefore I will be updating henceforth.

Merci Beaucoup,
FallenSnowman

Am I ever sure?

Do I ever really know?
Does anyone?

So many questions.
No answers to be found.

The woman I loved, she don't want me no more.

The home I had is no more than a cold wooden box.

Whatever it is. Whatever you need.
I can't give it to you.

Justifying the unjust.
Satisfying the greedy.


A pain in my heart,
A stake through my lung.

It's too late.
It was never on time.

My train has de-railed.

You will be the one that I missed.
I will be the one you never knew.

A pop can tab to never forget.
Forgotten, I lie on a hill.
Surrounded by everything that has forgotten me, everything that never was, that could be if not for me in the way.

I love you, I wish things could work, I wish I could be more. I wish that I wasn't so useless. One day maybe you'll look back and think, "things could have been done differently." But then, everything could have been done differently. That still doesnt mean things wouldn't have worked out the way they already have.


Tu ne quaesieris—scire nefas—quem mihi, quem tibi
finem di dederint, Leuconoë, nec Babylonios
temptaris numeros. ut melius, quicquid erit, pati!
seu plures hiemes, seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,
quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare
Tyrhenum. Sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi
spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida
aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero

The irony of the word
As if I had ahome to begin with.

Home is where the Heart is.
My heart is dead

Love, not so unconditional,
Why have youcome here?

To mock me?
As I lay on the floor.

As I bleed out from my superficial wounds.
Imagined, yet more pain than anything before.

And now I have become sour.
Those who make me stay as they leave.

This world is a bitch,
And then you die.

So fuck it all, I don't want to prolong this anymore
Why are you making me?

Alright, so this poem has waited over a month to be uploaded. I do hope you enjoy it, feel free to comment.

___________________________________

Comfort has never been more appreciated,
Never has it been so far away.

I've forgotten the meaning of being me
Of being together, I'm wholly unwhole

One day I had words to say
One day I was too late

I gave myself away,
Not expecting anything back

So why, with no expectations,
Did you run away?

You said you weren't happy,
I did all I could

I'm just not enough
So evacuate my heart.

Covered in Rain,
One would think that pain would just wash off

I suppose I'm used to it,
But waking up is hard, when it takes me five minutes to remember you aren't here