Activities of Robby Villa

Seasons of change show your shades of sadness.
Focusing on the weather can drive your mind into madness.
As many shades of grey on a day you can see through.
Looking through shows me the the true view of you, the new, your blues, if you grew or just split into 2.
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I planted a seed I called an idea in his brain.
I watched as it grew without food or water.
Eventually it started growing like a weed.
It attached itself to anyone who he went near.
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The strange thing about memories is that they are not in chronological order. I recall events that took place, but they are scattered across multiple timelines and worlds. I feel like an outsider when I look back at my past self; I want to know who she is and what she has been through, and I want to put myself in her shoes, as I do with most strangers. It is like knowing every mistake someone will make, but not knowing what they will do next. I, like the past me, will cease to exist one day. I'm terrified of that day.
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My words become ignored til they burn & turn to ash.
My words are blind to those who don't the meaning behind them.
Why are words just words til a action follows?
I become Suicide's Sadness & string along sorrow as those who see my words as nothing but hollow.
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Another mural created with the creatures of my subconsciousness.
Words of all design become my paint.
Nothing & no one can constraint, dictate, debate, taint, or in other word repaint the words I put weight on.
All the murals I create come from my neural.
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Pandemonium where my demons play.
Chaos where the unbalanced of all good lays.
A chasm of the abyss lay dormant.
The break of skin tearing.
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(COLLABORATION BETWEEN FLORIAEN & LADDY'S DAWN)
Sea of sand, wave of golden dust
Worms of light digging in the shadows
A maze of ripple around a sinkhole
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