Cant sleep for two nights in the row now; managing less than 4 hours a day.In my term, this will result in AF ala Accumulated Fatigue; an ailment tat can get worse if its left untreated n .. accumulate. Perhaps its cos when the lights are off, the real me emerges within the the shadows, wondering how i passed my day under a happy skin, when internal turmoil beseige my temple of soul. More of the drama mama....a fren of mine is experiencing difficulties in her relationship, not the 1st time she is complaining to me over msn abt how she is loved and how she wants to be loved. As she complains to me, i realised i must have also made other complain about me. This might be the period where it is critical. Any advise that comes with a hidden motive will probably result in the problem being escalated to the point of no return. Im not saying that happens to my case... i duno anyway... but i somehow became a little more delicate when advising her. Ill just say; gal, u choose your own cup.. be it poison or honey, its your own choice.. of cos as ur fren.. if i know that cup contains poison, ill stop u but who will know the future?I aint no prophet... The past doesnt matter, the present is impt but its the future that counts.
Anyway, I chanced upon this while surfing for Diablo pics. A fascinating poem/riddle which always capitvates me with the clever use of words to create a 'dark' feel. Missed those days of hardcore demon slaying thru the night and looking more zombiefied than the actual zombies in the game... all while in Keat Hong Camp; holiday chalet for NSFs converting to civilians.
The Halls of the Blind
I can see what you see not
Vision milky then eyes rot.
When you turn they will be gone,
Whispering their hidden song.
Then you see what can not be,
Shadows move where light should be.
Out of darkness out of mind,
Cast down into the Halls of the Blind.
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