Grey Roots, Worn Boots...
A lot of times I feel like my soul's not mine. Like in the grand scheme of things somebody lied about me, the young guy that already died. Perhaps it's my confidence, my wisdom or stride; perhaps it's brittle old bones and brand new pride. Maybe long ago when I really died they buried my bones on the lower east side. Maybe my age and my wisdom don't match. Maybe my old heart and my old hat are just strings to my past and the thoughts that I catch. Maybe I'm the dew before it touches morning grass, the drops with the sense and the style to last, to live out the water, the matter, the gas. Or I could be a lyre with one hell of a task.
- Ant
So anyway, I wrote that this evening after getting back from waiting some three hours at the DMV for my ID. My reasons for scribbling it on this little napkin were because... I can't help the feeling that I'm too old to be this young. I've felt this way for quite a while too and I don't know where the sensation originated from other than perhaps a soul that's seen more than it needed or even cared to.
Many people call me wise for one reason or another, some say I'm well informed, some say I just know too damned much for someone my age, ever since the first day I started scribbling my thoughts in a notebook at 10. I don't write poetry often cus I think poetry, good or bad, is the most god-awful crap man is capable of offering another man. Don't take offence though, people, I respect what you do, especially if you're a poet. It's just not my bag.
I don't know where I got my brain and I can't say I like having it all the time. I don't consider myself wise, smart or even well informed. I'm thankful for my mind, certainly, but sometimes it's a curse. A lot of people hate me for being able to answer their questions, and it's that reason that I wonder why they even bothered to ask in the first place.
I feel 200 years old. Like I walked this road before, like I lived this life and I keep doing something wrong and my payment is to relive it until I get it right. If that's the case, have I written this before? Have I made a note of this phenomenon at this very moment in another variation of a life of mistakes relived to a nauseating infinitum? If I have, what can I do to stop it or change it, this endless line, this comedy of errors?
I think, when you've been through a lot, you build a natural resistance to the feelings that immobilize and incapacitate you. I think when you see and experience triumph, joy and heartbreak too much you build a natural tolerance or resistance to them and from there grow a strong sense of restfulness, a calm that surpasses all other emotion. I think it's this sensation I have that facilitates feeling old. I think that perhaps I'm simply at a point in my life where the mental walls block out the elation when something good happens, and block in the tears when something bad happens.
Or... maybe I just think too much. Whatever the reason, I hope one day I'm able to feel again and that anyone going through the same thing that I am never reaches this point. If they have, maybe they can find their way back.
Maybe.
Hybrid: Out.
- Ant
So anyway, I wrote that this evening after getting back from waiting some three hours at the DMV for my ID. My reasons for scribbling it on this little napkin were because... I can't help the feeling that I'm too old to be this young. I've felt this way for quite a while too and I don't know where the sensation originated from other than perhaps a soul that's seen more than it needed or even cared to.
Many people call me wise for one reason or another, some say I'm well informed, some say I just know too damned much for someone my age, ever since the first day I started scribbling my thoughts in a notebook at 10. I don't write poetry often cus I think poetry, good or bad, is the most god-awful crap man is capable of offering another man. Don't take offence though, people, I respect what you do, especially if you're a poet. It's just not my bag.
I don't know where I got my brain and I can't say I like having it all the time. I don't consider myself wise, smart or even well informed. I'm thankful for my mind, certainly, but sometimes it's a curse. A lot of people hate me for being able to answer their questions, and it's that reason that I wonder why they even bothered to ask in the first place.
I feel 200 years old. Like I walked this road before, like I lived this life and I keep doing something wrong and my payment is to relive it until I get it right. If that's the case, have I written this before? Have I made a note of this phenomenon at this very moment in another variation of a life of mistakes relived to a nauseating infinitum? If I have, what can I do to stop it or change it, this endless line, this comedy of errors?
I think, when you've been through a lot, you build a natural resistance to the feelings that immobilize and incapacitate you. I think when you see and experience triumph, joy and heartbreak too much you build a natural tolerance or resistance to them and from there grow a strong sense of restfulness, a calm that surpasses all other emotion. I think it's this sensation I have that facilitates feeling old. I think that perhaps I'm simply at a point in my life where the mental walls block out the elation when something good happens, and block in the tears when something bad happens.
Or... maybe I just think too much. Whatever the reason, I hope one day I'm able to feel again and that anyone going through the same thing that I am never reaches this point. If they have, maybe they can find their way back.
Maybe.
Hybrid: Out.