tuesday
some people are able to see words form inside their head. the sinew and fleshiness of their anger, hurt, unbearable sadness or joy or confusion or frustration or... other things where single words try to define but hold nothing close to what is, becomes. through sentences and metaphors and memory that conjure up details remembered as acutely as a scene, replayed over and over again. a strain of music stiched into every breath exhaled. sometimes, elaborate tapestries can be woven. lines of principles and philosophies are pumped with new vigour as they are reartculated into different moments, different contexts, different relationships. or poetry. where something small contains the wobbling girth of everything that is. the smallness multiplying in difference. this colour. this action. this forgetfulness. this. these reasons.
i cannot. all i have is some kind of bulbous thing. morphing into postules that erupt and fatten and deflate and becomes something else. as i try to touch what is. it is not. it is something altogether different. my pauses gain a life of their own. they say things i do not mean. i try to capture the empty balloons that changes colour even as they point at me before escape. but all i catch are giggles and a deeper creature of awkwardness. unintended intentions.
sometimes i try to pin them down through writing. if speech is fleeting and capricious. maybe the regimental leanings of actual writing can somehow lessen possibilities from spawning probabilities. but even here, i think i fail.
today i am completely gnawed into sadness.
i cannot. all i have is some kind of bulbous thing. morphing into postules that erupt and fatten and deflate and becomes something else. as i try to touch what is. it is not. it is something altogether different. my pauses gain a life of their own. they say things i do not mean. i try to capture the empty balloons that changes colour even as they point at me before escape. but all i catch are giggles and a deeper creature of awkwardness. unintended intentions.
sometimes i try to pin them down through writing. if speech is fleeting and capricious. maybe the regimental leanings of actual writing can somehow lessen possibilities from spawning probabilities. but even here, i think i fail.
today i am completely gnawed into sadness.