gone and never wanting to come back- to being alone. Sadness can be overcoming me, overcoming the circumstances and compounding our separation, lost when will we be together. You died the day you were overcome with doubt and its all the illusion that was built as your memory fades to Grey and then to black. Dust in space, and the currents are walking us along.
It’s only a story. A safe way from what actually happened. Even if sounds real, its just a story, pretty vacant. Two boys, two girls and a curiosity to unleash the hidden. Never go into a house that isn’t yours when no one’s home. Never forget your tools in the graveyard if your digging up the dead. Sadness and the muck it brings about one, is nowhere in the forest of curiosity. Two boys can bring themselves close to the edge, but they can only jump off together if they hold each others hands.
Child devils, corrupting the plain, the blank, and the unwritten story. Try it once try it twice, try it cause its nice. Steady, your hands and words tell a different story.
But your helpless to the rapture of the devil’s adrenaline.
Never once could we do what we want just limited everything to a conformist halt, and monitored our every reaction. Followed the words of the old, followed the acts of the young. History is now telling us to be someone, and to act a certain way.
All the many influences and you haven’t been truthful with your self, and it’s not going to help when we aren’t around.
So when you talked did you talk to yourself, or just all those people who rather decide your life instead of theirs. In the end it’s funny how things are seen. Only perspective can be as deceptive at unbalancing the scales. Justice, is time masked in memories of the past, and judgment is reserved for your guilt. The most insecure feeling is guilt, the emotionally lost will tremble at the self inflicted sacrifice of your bleeding. When it was done you looked around and asked is it right? Don’t be mad, just don’t hate me. She was hated but your just another. Rename and regain, resume, and remember, all that is, was already and will not matter when your forgotten.
Sanity came from being punished for all my wrongs and hating everything that conspired against me.
Lawless and arrogance are seeds for destruction. Lies are the fragrant soil that nurtures its growth like manure. Fermented thoughts change form and you and me, are us and them. Rules ground. But only the rules that last are the firmest ground to center your self. When the ground rules change, other people start talking for you and the ground isn’t everlasting. Lie, only to yourself, these are the best lies.
“-too obvious to have any influence, because they must always, to every man, occur at first sight; and when they prevail not of themselves, they are surely obstructed by education, prejudice, and passion, not by ignorance or mistake.”—D.Hume
-humanity was outside, outside the world was filled with a reality that nauseated my senses. Love had torn me apart, again and again, I was left with the living embodiment of all the people in and out of my life. The wind was blowing me back now and the words were ringing in my head- take me away from here. Sympathy for humanity ,was not far from my grasp and still sadness surrounds me in the dark- take me away from here. Sentiments for others had always been asleep inside me and all I wanted to do was wake them so as to take care of someone else. It was how special and unique my thoughts were to me, in the way showing my caring could be absorbed by others. There was no moral distinction it was a mere principle of reflection, my sentiments for others. The common experience will always be us, it is the evidence that we are alive, and it seems as if though it’s a natural understanding an element of loneliness- and sympathy has my personal merit.
It wasn’t until I felt old that I knew what it was like to be young. Only the lucky get to feel fuzzy headed the young man told the seniors. We all get there and there’s no right and wrong, there is no better- there is only different.
He talked about the jacket and immediately the thought was that it had to be mine. To posses the objects of the other is to say- you see something of yourself in something else, or rather this is the part of you that you do not have/ posses and its just a matter of time before others desire what you have in themselves. So the story goes that time passed and then the opportunity to be someone else arises and then your wearing that jacket, you own it but its not enough and now others desire you. Whats in an object that no others have- whats in a name that is just the same-thing, that it was in the first place. Now they see your jacket- its only a matter of time before some other wants it. In the beginning– a jacket made of glass was so beautiful now beauty has changed but that’s not the end now you don’t want it, you have a jacket made of broken glass.