I have trouble filtering all the disappointments my chest aches with every thought of what could have been had I only been more vocal, had I only been more honest. Now I look into every possibility with regret. I see myself making the same mistakes. I see myself making the same mistakes.
Something that feels this strong can crush you, and beneath this weight, this familiar make-believe anticipation, you are crushing me.
Don’t lead me to lead myself on. It is not your fault; I am just a fool in love with the idea of this foolishness. A fool who needs someone to make him a fool.
I cannot shake this obsession, but I can shift it at will to somebody more friendly to my frail structure, someone who can accommodate my ideas of possibility. And someone with whom I may forget. With whom I may forget you. But I find myself making the same mistakes. I find myself making the same mistakes.
For you were the very same thing. You were the very same thing as she was and as she will be.
There is something special in feeling insignificant. It is not a matter of perspectives and putting them into any sort of silly order. Not at all.
I know that I am mortal, I know that I am tiny, but I never knew the extent of how until now, though that never really meant much to me at all.
It has nothing to do with faith or fates, nothing to do with love or hate, and nothing to do with the future or extending to the far reaches of space.
But it is just when faced with the physical infinite, when it is right outside your window looking back in on you; distance, possibility, nothing familiar...
You are faced with the notion that all of this could come in and crush you and it would not matter to the rest of the whole.
It is beautiful.
It is untouched, never to be jaded, always pure, and I welcome it.
Come in and crush me. Swallow me completely. Just never take me back. Take me to the furthest reaches of wherever you deem worthy, and do with me as you please.
Take me as far as you possibly can. Take me to the end.
It is a brave new world, 1984 was 25 years ago. The aftermath is something to behold.
Obscured by meaning, and a hunger for something more stimulating. Too anxious to let things just be.
With one eye to the ground and the other to the sky, I walk a hazy line through this numerical life. I am sorry, but I’m just too distracted today. Honey, you mean the world to me, but I am sorry to say that the world doesn’t mean a thing to me.
I think I am going away…
It is a fast new world; the Earth was flat not about 500 years ago. Humanity declines as the population grows.
Obscured by faith placed in the hands of man, what a mistake. Though in theory, the idea didn’t seem so wrong.
With one mind to the ground and the other to the sky, confused to the patterns of this analytical plight. I am sorry, but I’m just too distracted today. Darling, you mean the world to me, but relative to the universe were all just insignificant beings.
Wrote this while listening to this. Seemed to fit it alright.
The Good Dog.
~~~~~~~
Step by step, toe by toe, peek out the door, not a soul. Best not make a sound, freedom may be just a few yards away but it feels like miles.
Don’t wake the beast as you creep past his way. And don’t let the sounds from his rest steal the strength from your legs. Heavy breathing, violent heart beating, pray he doesn’t hear the floorboards creaking from beneath your feet.
Don’t look inside, curiosity will be the end of you, darling. Keep moving. We’ve no time to delay, only a few more hours until morning.
Make your way down the spiral staircase, a dizzying cyclone of portraits and faces. Ghosts of those past related; those for whom you could care less.
Now the final sprint… And though you know you will never make it, you dare to hope and taste the fresh air. You dare to try again and again, every night, for that taunting door.
Only to return of your own will with your guilty leash ‘round neck and your tail between your legs. Back to the same situation, back to the same routine.
Where is your prince charming? Who will slay the beast?
