Time and all you gave, I was the jerk who preferred the sea.
Following the divided paths merged throughout the labyrinth of thought that feeds his insomnia, and in the early hours of the black morning the boy wishes for the touch of something real. Sifting through the cluttered closets of his mind, he casts his self defying light around the damp, dust ridden rooms erected in his head, the light illuminating every ill conceived attempt at happiness the boy had tried over these few years. This type of soul searching was certainly not alien to the boy, who had spent most of his life in the dark and the quiet, somewhere between life and death, awaiting some answer to sooth his perpetual discontentment.
Sunrise, smoky blue painting over the black emptiness of night, once again making the world seem alive again, but still silent. Day has awoken from its all too brief slumber only to find the same world waiting, the same mundane existence threaded through this labyrinth of people and places and dreams we are all too afraid to dream, thoughts we pretend not to think. Its perfectly devastating the way in which ones conscience can so over throw ones self power and will and turn a seemingly strong human being into a weak child begging for forgiveness for all those little sins that have left their scars. Was the boy searching for redemption? No, not redemption, something far more simple, something far more plausible. The boy sought complacency, the boy sought a fond goodnight followed by a night full of dreams and void of this deafening silence promoting introspective thought.
Regrets; once the boy was told that regrets were merely lessons we haven’t learned yet, the boy ponders the validity of this philosophy. What if there is, at last, no lesson to be learned. That, perhaps, things are simply what they are, a stone is a stone, a lie a lie, no gray areas; only staunch and sterile black and white. Perhaps all this thought, all these backward glances serve no purpose, and that our regrets will in fact haunt us to no end, perhaps there is now escape, no nirvana or possible peace of mind, only chaos. An entire world built on chaos, an entire world so tragically finite. No, the boy thinks as he lay in his own private purgatory, the world, life can’t possibly mean nothing more than what one sees on the surface, surely there is some rhythm of revelations beneath the chaos, the love and hate and fear and gaiety.
Sunrise, smoky blue painting over the black emptiness of night, once again making the world seem alive again, but still silent. Day has awoken from its all too brief slumber only to find the same world waiting, the same mundane existence threaded through this labyrinth of people and places and dreams we are all too afraid to dream, thoughts we pretend not to think. Its perfectly devastating the way in which ones conscience can so over throw ones self power and will and turn a seemingly strong human being into a weak child begging for forgiveness for all those little sins that have left their scars. Was the boy searching for redemption? No, not redemption, something far more simple, something far more plausible. The boy sought complacency, the boy sought a fond goodnight followed by a night full of dreams and void of this deafening silence promoting introspective thought.
Regrets; once the boy was told that regrets were merely lessons we haven’t learned yet, the boy ponders the validity of this philosophy. What if there is, at last, no lesson to be learned. That, perhaps, things are simply what they are, a stone is a stone, a lie a lie, no gray areas; only staunch and sterile black and white. Perhaps all this thought, all these backward glances serve no purpose, and that our regrets will in fact haunt us to no end, perhaps there is now escape, no nirvana or possible peace of mind, only chaos. An entire world built on chaos, an entire world so tragically finite. No, the boy thinks as he lay in his own private purgatory, the world, life can’t possibly mean nothing more than what one sees on the surface, surely there is some rhythm of revelations beneath the chaos, the love and hate and fear and gaiety.