Silently I stand, losing everything I am.
A raging storm, my love, I mourn.
I devoted thousands of thoughts to you.
Thousands of daydreams.
Thousands of hopes for the future.
Thousands of smiles.
Thousands of hours thinking about you.
I loved you, I hated you. I didn't know who I was.
Now, I get to watch you live a thousand days and a thousand daydreams with someone else.
I missed my chance. I've lost you now. Wish I could get you back somehow.
Now it's over. My heart is broken, because of what I left unspoken. Unspoken.
In a corner of the room he sits motionless, watching the street.
Years ago he sat straight, a lean back like steel rods keeping him steady. He kept his eye on the street. Any minute now, he said. Any minute now.
A thousand years ago he would straighten before sitting down, pulling the knees of his jeans up and coming to rest quietly in the chair next to the window. He would settle into a gaze, lose himself in concentration, and watch the street until his young bones creaked and his eyelids scratched his vision.
He would watch sometime into the night. And when tiredness wove itself into his skin and deep into his heart, he would close his eyes and wait that way, sightless. Just feeling into the dark. Any minute now. Any minute now.
For years he waited like this. Pieces of his life all moved through their paces and had their moments and he still waited. He found a stillness next to the window and sunk in. He closed his eyes. He tasted anticipation; he memorized the razor feeling of it.
Some days were too long. Any minute now was not nearly soon enough. The air around the room grew grey and stale, and breaths exchanged for new ones were torturous, useless.
Days like this he almost gave up. Anticipation would roll around in his mouth with a bitter sameness and he’d spit it out, ruthless, restless. But he stayed by the window. He held onto the armrests until his knuckles shone bone-white in the flat light of the room.
Those days came again, and again, and often. But you were on your way. Even in the empty and bloodless days, you made your way through the streets. Even small steps carried you closer to him. And though he had no way of knowing you were on your way, he waited. Any minute now. Any minute now, for years.
And then, there you were. Pausing in the grey of the morning, shivering a bit in the cold. And he looked up, tired, and saw the light you held. He held the image of your face shining and stored it, breathless with relief, in his memory. He ignored the sound of his bones and rose from his chair. It must have taken so much trust to leave the outline of you in the window. To walk down the stairs. To open the door and pray you were still there.
And I know that although I loved you first, he loved you longer.
Now the two of you sit facing each other and let the light from the window stream in, soft and cold. He says something, and you laugh, and he stores the image away. A thousand moments of the love and asymmetry of life.
a philosopher walks into a room
there is a panel of "experts" before him and they are here to explain a second universe
but that's the point !!!!! kid in a candy store big eyes WANTS to NEEDS to say everything
what does a philosopher do?
analyze and describe? define? 'how it is'
language is only a medium for the mind i see so many fallacies in that statement
.... not the other way around. where we would normally get into a mindset to discuss something can language do this? not language but perhaps mental ability to move fast enough
I told her
She’s my soul,
She’s my light,
Without her I can’t live,
In that moment she leaved.
I've made a thousand mistake,
I never cheat,
Even in virtual world, I don't cheat,
Even in this world, I don't cheat.
I've made mistakes,
But not huge,
When I make a mistake,
I have the power
I loved a thousand of loves once,
I loved the sun,
I loved my family.
I loved my pets.
I loved the old couple still in love after fifty years,
I loved the angry driver on the highway who nearly clipped me.
I loved the man on the street asking for help.
I loved everyone and everything,
Until the world told me it was wrong.
Until they told me it was improper and not right,
I had a thousand loves,
and lived without one fight.
The world broke me down,
the people I loved, (Rightly), shot down my love.
Made it smaller and less like an infinite piece of me.
Everyday I look not for careers, or jobs, or work,
I look for my thousands of loves, and hope one day I'll feel whole again.
Suddenly years have gone by,
Yet so many thoughts.
So many thoughts
That I could never fathom.
I cannot control myself
I cannot contain my feelings.
Millions of unsaid words
Thousands of untouchable,
And hundreds of distant friends.
My thoughts are scattered
Spread across many grey clouds
Soaring thousands of miles above my reach.
When will the rain fall
Of tiny puddles?
Stepped on puddles,
The cycle must begin again
As the grey clouds collapse.
We gain more puddles
And millions of people
Trapped within the cycle of life.
I look for places
And a life
That I've never even seen
Or heard of;
I am always searching.
So many people
Out of my sight,
Out of my life.
You are gone,
You are so distant
Of miles away.
You are within the clouds,
Swimming within my thoughts
Within my each and every emotion
You are far above my reach.
Many years have gone by.
Years fly by.
Without revealing my love for you?
The unlived dreams.
She was 12
He was 8
They trailed west
But just became meat
One raped, beaten, raped and ate
The other just ate.
Shaved memories of something
Something said by somebody
Oh, a little girl
Said the sun would whirl
And the moon would bow
Means nothing to a dead and cooked cow.
They make concentric circles
In and out
Spreading goodness wherever they go...
Just after eating
A little boy and girl.
The late hours fluorescent light flicker
From the moon to the neon red lights
The scars of our fathers written on our thighs
Scared to be seen in the imminent daylight
Freelance extortionists and racketeering blacklist
Black market, black cats, capitalizing on rats
The rat race is being run by yuppies in ties
With lies and cries of spies in in the skies
Confusing their faces with ones that I like
Indecisive for lack of a vice at the peak
I scrape together letters from the people I fight
Where notes are written about the upcoming week
The world's on fire and I hold it trembling
My fingers are burning and my shoulders broken
I buckle but seconds before I go down
The world breaks open upon the cold ground
i am breaking into
thousands of tiny pieces
one by one they
are cast into the wind
and become lost
beyond the horizon
and as they swirl
through the air
each piece calls to you
but you pretend not to hear
and the desperation and pleading
in my voice only paint me the fool
so on i go, broken and wandering
for a way to put myself
back together again
for so long, i thought
it would be you
who took my
thousands of tiny pieces
and put them
where they belong
but now i realize
you wouldn't even
know where to begin