Hidden quintessence In my bedroom I lay on my bed listening to Eminem. The same cd’s, same songs that I have listened to numerous times before. The words melt together to provide meaning among the rhythmic beat of the music. Stan. A totally devoted fan...like I am. I look around me and see his face glancing down at me from all angles. I trace his tattoo on one of the posters with my finger, the same one that I drew into my notebook. Someday I want that tattoo…the perfectly patterned lines symmetrically curve around his wrist. The song describes me though I think I am more rational than him. I’d never drive off a bridgeHidden quintessence
And, welcome to dA.
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