we will always say we are not ready
for fight, for flight, or for anything
wanna feel “it can’t get any worse than this”
wanna feel risk and adrenaline but make it out alive
civilians fleeing for their lives
the world is small and bodies get weary
there is only so far you can run and so long before your body gives
not to mention your mind
when minds go, people break
life has a limit; when it is time, we go
is time supposed to flow linearly
I continue being flippant
when it comes down to it, some will lash out at me
some will feed me medicine
and some will shake their head and leave me to the wolves
I play with my beads and taste the air
not yet, it’s not time yet
haha
lately I’ve been contemplating the reason why I’m not willing to commit to colour
I think for people like me, when we try to assign ourselves to a hue,
we end up more colourless
somehow
I see three different places when I know it’s one
an hour feels like a day and
a month feels like an hour
sit tight and buckle up
we’re catapulting headfirst into the last hour
did anyone tell you
it’s a dangerously fine line between fight and flight
literally
shall I fight or shall I take flight
we take cover in shades of grey because the less colourful we are
the less we stand out
the less aggressively we are pursued
in the end we are still defined by our lack of colour
as I type, people murdered because they are branded by colours
or lack thereof
I don’t enjoy thinking about it
I pull at the grass and observe cloud movement
not yet, it’s not time yet
yay
there are arrivals, and then there are departures
when they arrive, they arrive here where people are
when they depart, nobody knows for sure where they go
maybe there are many destinations
like hell and heaven are just two of many
maybeeee
I hope we all just perish into a void
chugga chugga choo choo
on my way to departure
one day we’ll be at death’s door knocking
“little pig, little pig, let me in!”
or attempting to smash the door in
“or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in”
as some people already are doing at this age
what if we broke in hoping for the void
but instead landed ourselves in hell
“thanks for nothing” “thought this was gonna be good” ” ugh”
I return to pondering petty problems
like rice weevils in my rice
choo choo
“We have arrived at Death’s Door. The fate transfer is about to commence. Please do not miss the transfer if you wish to come aboard.”
if this were a book, I’d be the character who fears death
and funds research for life-extension or immortality
just that I’m kind of broke
if only I could—
snip snip
cut a bit off someone’s life and paste it on the tail-end of mine
haha
when it’s my time to go,
I will say I’m not ready
as I have been saying every other day of my life