(no subject)
there's plenty wrong with the world, but really, we're here for such a short little time that feels like forever. we are so unaware of the fact that dreams are in some ways as real as the days we spend trudging through life. we are so unaware that forever is birth to death because the simple beating of our heart seems to dictate that more than our partially self aware mind does.
stale;stagnant;sleep.
i can't take the days one by one like this. it's like swallowing a horse tranquilizer. it's feasible if not reasonable when it becomes routine, but it's never comfortable. i want to burn bridges and run away like my younger youth. i want to fuck everything and everyone around me over and kiss them goodbye, shedding them like a butterfly does layers of its old cocoon. it's a shame that these days, my wings are wet. i've gotten so unfortunately good at selling things that i've sold myself on the idea that sitting still right now is an intelligent investment of my time. i've simply displaced my loves that i cannot have onto places that i cannot have. and it's a shame that i've made such a tradeoff. i feel like that same butterfly that crawled back into the pieces of its old cocoon, and it just doesn't seem to fit right anymore, making it so much worse the second time around.
i dreamt of having someone to run with my whole life. bonnie and clyde, you know. forget the world behind and pretend that life is the simple surroundings of sensory perception, because when you boil off the fat, that's what you're left with. and a queue of stables to tend have tied knots upon knots. i feel like i put on a pair of shoes, tied the laces to one and other and then tried to run a marathon, half unaware and wholly crippled. maybe seeing him pass will change me, again. love is watching someone die, you know. we've all heard that.
i miss palm trees and sunrises. you know, the red eyed ridiculous mornings when words were more esoteric feelings rather than prose. the rambling prophets of self and soul. chattering teeth and cold sand. it always felt warmer with the rhythmic crashing of the waves. maybe that was just because i was happy to not be in a bed, kissing my mornings goodbye and waiting to die. maybe that was because i was desperate for someone to love. maybe that was because i'm still desperate to love myself.
i still have this hope that i can manage to bury myself six feet deep in memories rather than cold dirt. maybe it'll take a few dollars from my pocket and maybe it'll shed a few unnecessary tears on the way, but i know that this life isn't for me. and it hasn't ever been. i don't know if it ever will be. i need to find a way to survive and never sit still. i need to run like my life depends on it, because it does. i need to surround myself with summer air and swingsets. i need to fill my skin with ink to remember every place i've loved. this isn't all about me, it's about grabbing something that you can't hold and knowing that if nothing else, it will always be yours.
and maybe that's what i've forgotten. comfort is an afterthought. life is now. i've got plenty of time to sit still when i'm dead.
stale;stagnant;sleep.
i can't take the days one by one like this. it's like swallowing a horse tranquilizer. it's feasible if not reasonable when it becomes routine, but it's never comfortable. i want to burn bridges and run away like my younger youth. i want to fuck everything and everyone around me over and kiss them goodbye, shedding them like a butterfly does layers of its old cocoon. it's a shame that these days, my wings are wet. i've gotten so unfortunately good at selling things that i've sold myself on the idea that sitting still right now is an intelligent investment of my time. i've simply displaced my loves that i cannot have onto places that i cannot have. and it's a shame that i've made such a tradeoff. i feel like that same butterfly that crawled back into the pieces of its old cocoon, and it just doesn't seem to fit right anymore, making it so much worse the second time around.
i dreamt of having someone to run with my whole life. bonnie and clyde, you know. forget the world behind and pretend that life is the simple surroundings of sensory perception, because when you boil off the fat, that's what you're left with. and a queue of stables to tend have tied knots upon knots. i feel like i put on a pair of shoes, tied the laces to one and other and then tried to run a marathon, half unaware and wholly crippled. maybe seeing him pass will change me, again. love is watching someone die, you know. we've all heard that.
i miss palm trees and sunrises. you know, the red eyed ridiculous mornings when words were more esoteric feelings rather than prose. the rambling prophets of self and soul. chattering teeth and cold sand. it always felt warmer with the rhythmic crashing of the waves. maybe that was just because i was happy to not be in a bed, kissing my mornings goodbye and waiting to die. maybe that was because i was desperate for someone to love. maybe that was because i'm still desperate to love myself.
i still have this hope that i can manage to bury myself six feet deep in memories rather than cold dirt. maybe it'll take a few dollars from my pocket and maybe it'll shed a few unnecessary tears on the way, but i know that this life isn't for me. and it hasn't ever been. i don't know if it ever will be. i need to find a way to survive and never sit still. i need to run like my life depends on it, because it does. i need to surround myself with summer air and swingsets. i need to fill my skin with ink to remember every place i've loved. this isn't all about me, it's about grabbing something that you can't hold and knowing that if nothing else, it will always be yours.
and maybe that's what i've forgotten. comfort is an afterthought. life is now. i've got plenty of time to sit still when i'm dead.