(no subject)
shadows run long on the road, four figures silhouetted on pavement. walking, nameless suburban road north eastern wealthy neighborhood. the air is clean, the streets are well lit, but not too well lit. and i'm on empty. without energy, without passion, without faith, or hope, and i'm even starting to forget what love is like. at least it was a real moment. at least i was conscious and the world was turning and we were breathing and roaming freely. At Least.
you're done when you're tired but you don't have a reason to sleep or a reason to move. when you've got no good reason to be ready for another day. you can only live once but you die everyday, and each death takes something with it forever. one day it was innocence. and one day later it was the feeling that all you'd lost was innocence.
when you see in print the demonized notion of humanity's saving grace, intellect, you might feel done. and when you see your work, rusting and dust collecting on bending shelves, in forgotten envelopes, and the weight of the knowledge that i am one of an infinite numbers of souls come and to come, you might feel finished.
but when i realize all existence has come and will go unnoticed, undocumented, and unimportant, when i realize the indigence of everything it's easy to relive all life's nuances, emotions, games, and existence within nostalgia, thus is possible: zen.
this is where i am, september the twenty third.
you're done when you're tired but you don't have a reason to sleep or a reason to move. when you've got no good reason to be ready for another day. you can only live once but you die everyday, and each death takes something with it forever. one day it was innocence. and one day later it was the feeling that all you'd lost was innocence.
when you see in print the demonized notion of humanity's saving grace, intellect, you might feel done. and when you see your work, rusting and dust collecting on bending shelves, in forgotten envelopes, and the weight of the knowledge that i am one of an infinite numbers of souls come and to come, you might feel finished.
but when i realize all existence has come and will go unnoticed, undocumented, and unimportant, when i realize the indigence of everything it's easy to relive all life's nuances, emotions, games, and existence within nostalgia, thus is possible: zen.
this is where i am, september the twenty third.