Yes, now that - this - is a mood.

You know, I just realized I've never asked you about you.

How do you spend your days?
What do you do?
What goes through your head when you hear something like this?
Does it put you in a similar mood?
Because I can't help but wonder if we'd get along well,
mellowing out to the same tunes.

Then I remember why I never ask.
Because these moments mean so much.
It's too much to lose.

He tears petals off flowers with a limp wrist,
hoping one day he'll hope for something more than just another tryst.
But his hope, like his desire, is lethargic.

He wastes no pennies on a wish.

He's convinced a seed was sown long ago,
when he let a stray emotion get the better of him.
But he's never let the water touch the soil since,
for fear of what would grow.

He resists having to tend a garden born from a whim.

Just a snake wearing a farmer's skin.
Too distracted by his own hiss to hear the promise of kisses.
He pinches his pennies with off-green thumbs held close to his chest,
and he wastes none on wishes.

Meet me in the place where time and space end;
Where aether dreams split at the seams.
That's where I live.
That's where I'll be.

When this scene is rended by inevitability, and everything that could be, is, and ever has been bleeds together in a tapestry of shreds.
That's where I've been.
That's where I live.

I hope to see you at the end of it all.
We could hold hands, and stand tall.
Our shadows elongated and melted in Styx.

The king and queen of oblivion;
Swirling in flux, unfixed.
That's where I am.
That's what I've been living in.

We'll rule over all of this nothing when you get here.
Over all of this emptiness that weighs infinite tons.

I'll meet you in the depths of this pit,
just as soon as you come.

At the end of the day,
it's not my own end that I contemplate.

Those thoughts are so yesterday.

My situation has changed. The world has changed. People are changing. My outlook can change too.

At the end of the day,
I think about tomorrow,
and how I can begin something new.

Some people are beautifully abstract movies:
enlightened visions of an idea come to life through cryptic scripting and inspired cinematography.
Slow burns full of brilliant dialogue that leave you thinking about them long after you've seen their open endings.
The kind that only the intelligentsia could ever truly appreciate, with a poor audience score but universally loved by critics.
The kind of movie with a cult following that comes up in late night conversations amongst hipsters sharing their opinions on the pieces of art that have made the biggest, longest lasting impacts on them.
The kind that takes hours of scrutiny and analyzation just to feel like you've arrived at some vague sense of what it all means.

And then there are people like me,
who are less like grand artistic visions of profound cinematography,
and more like reality tv.

The kind of thing a working suburban mother tunes into after a double at the local diner/supermarket/pharmacy counter.

The kind of non-committal, light-hearted viewing that never comes close to demanding your full attention. Just a myriad of characters brought together with a loose premise and slightly coerced tension.

The kind of thing you could have a conversation over, and walk away from and come back to, and still know what's going on, because it's just all so obvious - it never requires much thought.

The kind of show where the actors have every viewer convinced that they're something that they're not.

Love is a fiction being written in the moment and read in the past,
and it only lasts for as long as both parties involved believe it to be true.