BANG BALLS FREEDOM OF SPEECH NOTHING SHOULD BE IMPOSED IDEAS NOT LEECHED ONLY CREATIVELY COMPOSED
Mark Tay Facebook Flickr Email Archives February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 August 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 February 2009 March 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 January 2010 February 2010 April 2010 May 2010 June 2010 October 2010 November 2010 December 2010 Links Jasmine	Thursday, December 14, 2006 The Alleyway His heart as heavy as stone, he stood in the alley all alone. Cold yet fired up with emotion, he waked on without a vision. He looked to the end of the alleyway - to see only a brick wall forming, cold, hard and stone. He was alone. The street lamp shone bright into the eternal darkness of night. It engulfed his emotions, his soul, his heart. A vacuum of nothingness, a void created. He was lost. Lost to the world of futility, unknowingly where and there he stood. He looked back to the street, to only see cars flash past. He walked on, deep into the heart of the demon, the vortex of evil, the epicenter of zilch. The only thing he knew was that he knew nothing. His life a pawn, always a part of a bigger picture, yet always never quite there; almost always, always almost he was. He knew another for certain - the silence and repose of the night, the darkness and tranquility, fraud with danger so much safer than life itself. He looked back for the very last time, turned his back and crossed over into the world of peace, the world where only spilling his own crimson could be a passport.