A ***** tightened too tight
Right here. In my stomach.
Life is a simple thing, really:
You just let people tell you exactly what you need to feel,
Followed by:
Exactly what you need to do
Followed by:
Exactly how you need to live.
Then, fortunately, you'll be happy, and thus you will have nothing else in the world to worry about.
It's certainly a utopian age we live in. It's funny how every single person has every single answer to every single question.
A Disclaimer:
I dislike emotion. It's rather like a very uncomfortable shape that just sort of sits there - or sometimes it rages, but mostly just sits there - moving about as if it breathes, and its heart beats on its own. The best thing to do is:
Beat it down with a large wooden stick. And then follow the rules.
Let us review the matter, shall we?
A singular person seems to entirely shift the constellations that connect the stars in my head.
Until it all sort of flattens into a wide, sharp-but-not-sharp mass of screaming desire and frantic pursuit, and it settles nicely into the shape of my smile.
A side note:
Eyes are easy to look into,
until you realize that perhaps you shouldn't be looking into them
until you realize that it might be your one chance to look into them,
until you realize that it's too late, and those eyes are
somewhere else.
Bliss.
Back to business:
The feel of someone is like fire - can't quite grasp it until you are, and then it leaves a mark. An aching mark, perhaps, one that leaves you up at night, but a mark nonetheless.
And then the planets suddenly all revolve around that sun, that flaming son, that maddeningly heated and roaring sun that warms you and burns you and fills your life with light and blinds you to everything that was or should be or even wants to be and it just is:
Love. A terrifying, irrational, confusing, and all-around undesirable reality. Let's scrape it off into words, the little voices said, and see if it makes anything better. In a small way, perhaps it does. Or maybe that's just me again.
A note to the Reader:
Nothing to see here, my friend. Just a bit of liquid nonsense splattered onto a blank page. With all the lies out there, it's fascinatingly easy to be deceived.
A Final Note:
Occasionally there is a moment
in which the reality becomes so real that it's There
and an unfortunate soul can feel it
and they also feel that Person breathing, shifting, living, from so far away and suddenly
for just a second
in a flash of light
that unfortunate soul
can sense the squirming mass of flesh that is Humanity
under an abandoned darkening sky.
A hand tightened too tight
Right here. Over my heart.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 12:27 AM UTC
A ***** tightened too tight
Right here. In my stomach.
Life is a simple thing, really:
You just let people tell you exactly what you need to feel,
Followed by:
Exactly what you need to do
Followed by:
Exactly how you need to live.
Then, fortunately, you'll be happy, and thus you will have nothing else in the world to worry about.
It's certainly a utopian age we live in. It's funny how every single person has every single answer to every single question.
A Disclaimer:
I dislike emotion. It's rather like a very uncomfortable shape that just sort of sits there - or sometimes it rages, but mostly just sits there - moving about as if it breathes, and its heart beats on its own. The best thing to do is:
Beat it down with a large wooden stick. And then follow the rules.
Let us review the matter, shall we?
A singular person seems to entirely shift the constellations that connect the stars in my head.
Until it all sort of flattens into a wide, sharp-but-not-sharp mass of screaming desire and frantic pursuit, and it settles nicely into the shape of my smile.
A side note:
Eyes are easy to look into,
until you realize that perhaps you shouldn't be looking into them
until you realize that it might be your one chance to look into them,
until you realize that it's too late, and those eyes are
somewhere else.
Bliss.
Back to business:
The feel of someone is like fire - can't quite grasp it until you are, and then it leaves a mark. An aching mark, perhaps, one that leaves you up at night, but a mark nonetheless.
And then the planets suddenly all revolve around that sun, that flaming son, that maddeningly heated and roaring sun that warms you and burns you and fills your life with light and blinds you to everything that was or should be or even wants to be and it just is:
Love. A terrifying, irrational, confusing, and all-around undesirable reality. Let's scrape it off into words, the little voices said, and see if it makes anything better. In a small way, perhaps it does. Or maybe that's just me again.
A note to the Reader:
Nothing to see here, my friend. Just a bit of liquid nonsense splattered onto a blank page. With all the lies out there, it's fascinatingly easy to be deceived.
A Final Note:
Occasionally there is a moment
in which the reality becomes so real that it's There
and an unfortunate soul can feel it
and they also feel that Person breathing, shifting, living, from so far away and suddenly
for just a second
in a flash of light
that unfortunate soul
can sense the squirming mass of flesh that is Humanity
under an abandoned darkening sky.
A hand tightened too tight
Right here. Over my heart.
