Close your eyes, take a deep breath. Count to ten. What is the first thought that violently demands your attention? Are you like me? Does your vanity drive you to the edge of your sanity, from which you can view all of the madness that awaits you. Do you refuse, like myself, to give in? I am weak, I admit this. What is your reason? What is your excuse? A moment, a glance, a glimpse, and perhaps a dance. A movement inspired by sound, alas a way to seek salvation. But this rhythm is not from God. The almighty has expressed disapproval. And you are just the messenger. How strong and majestic you stand holding the word of God in your hand. You do not see yourself, the way you look down on us. All you see is pathetic me, in dire need of your help.
A moment as fluid as the dream that we cannot remember. How to stay true to a sentiment that used to hold it all together. The consistency of inconsistency. The pleasures of irony. How do you swim? Do you just float with your toes breaking the surface, every once in a while just to feel the air? Placing a warm smile on my face, the connection I need to take place, just so I can feel okay. It is quite a battle, holding steady all the emotion that begs to flow aimlessly. Always feeling the urge to let go, and without knowing why or why not, I never do. Perhaps just for a love to be true.
Disparity, but how? When a light of joy resonates and creates an endless supply of comfort and love. But knowing myself, I say, proximity is the only drug. I choose that which is close. Beyond what I know, is not beneficial for my soul. I have taken your hand, you shutter as if winter's gust, was just another foolish lust. Yet you still hold on to my hand, how pathetic you are. So why can't I stop moving my feet to the melody you play. How have you given this dark room, painted with my red, such a sweet scent? The secret is to indulge in what is meant to be discreet. Justifying carnage with appetite, I create a delicacy and I watch you eat.
I have reached a milestone simply by existing. Spinning in a giant circle, having listened to the commands of so many different voices. I have done nothing and I refuse to participate. I am neither a leader nor a follower. We all suffer, some more willingly than others, making you the fool. I draw the line, in the sand, on my head, in the sky, across two stars. I forget during the day and I start over every night. I promise myself that I will not be the same. I wish so desperately that this time I will change. But I don't and I can't. I push all the sand and it finds a way to trickle back down, creating a place for me to sit. So I have a seat on all my wasted effort and I can't help myself from laughing.
To say existence is pointless, to me, has grown so redundant. I can create a meaning to my text. Take my words out of context and try to make sense of what you choose to hold me accountable for. I have a code that I live by. It does not fluctuate based off the variables in the room, though it could. I do not seek peace, I believe war is a necessity. Greed is the culprit that declared war and has already struck first.
But I just want to hold your hand. Hold it close to your chest and feel the little heart beat, thumping into our silence. How your eyes were once as full as the moon.
Where are you now
my love?
30 feels good.
