Nov 2016
The other night at work I noticed that
Centipedes like to congregate in the pool room to die
It's easily the warmest place in the hotel, but I see them all over
I notice bugs of all kinds, ants in the garbage, and spiders in the corners of the stairwell
Lady bugs love the sunny spots near the windows and I see those centipedes marching brazenly
Along the carpet in the hallway from time to time, I wonder where they go…
To what holes they crawl into, I wonder how long they’ve been alive
And why they choose to die near water because I easily sweep dozens of them up day after day
I’ve been feeling such a way that I cant help but relate this all to me
I’d guess I’d want to die somewhere warm too, but I cant think of what holes I’ll wander into
If I ever get out of this one, how many legs would it take to run? Rhetorical question…
Cause I’ve learned my lesson, there is no easy way out, there are no simple answers
See, all these “facts” are just theories, because no one knows why, what planes we’ll burst into
Or whatever our souls do, if you believe that sorta thing, I think space is funny
Because even within me there is so much space, spaces between atoms and spaces between cells
Nothing ever really touches so time is also a guess, and more like a distance
When we propose this strange instance that is reality, you need to have just enough separation
To hold it together, to even observe a shape, and we still yet may never know if there even is a why
Or that’s just what it does, the dimensions above are theoretically endless and unless we are shown wrong
It's known that particles flit in and out of the universe at a whim, if quantum mechanics was a church
I’d be in, cause it’s also a bunch of theories that are really a quest for the truth, if it can be observed
And when I heard that “facts” are stranger than fiction, they’re definitely right, we’re all still existing
In this plane we call the third, but we can ruminate on the fourth, and even manipulate it in metaphors
Seek to remake it so there is no space between us, then we’ll be static, make our wrinkle in this fabric
Last forever, just on the flip side of never, which is honestly another whole big conversation
Because everything and nothing are one in the same, but nothing by its own definition does not exist
I cant even begin to list how many long nights I’ve brooded on this, though everything is still a difficult concept
It’s easier to accept for me, you see I still stumble all over my words, and it’s hard to relate
I hate that I rarely know what to say, but I believe in quantum mechanics
So I must share atoms with other versions of myself
That there’s one of my selves that can breathe fire, maybe
And one who’s the strongest, fastest man on the planet
Even a me that can communicate flawlessly every time no matter what the circumstance or who the person
And if my search is diligent, then there's one of me out there that is ******* brilliant
Because connection is just on the other side of separation, loneliness is just a sensation
An illusion, a confusion, if you can even read this then you can’t truly be alone
Just wonder why and roam
This plane of existence that happens to be home
Centipedes like to congregate in the pool room to die
It's easily the warmest place in the hotel, but I see them all over
I notice bugs of all kinds, ants in the garbage, and spiders in the corners of the stairwell
Lady bugs love the sunny spots near the windows and I see those centipedes marching brazenly
Along the carpet in the hallway from time to time, I wonder where they go…
To what holes they crawl into, I wonder how long they’ve been alive
And why they choose to die near water because I easily sweep dozens of them up day after day
I’ve been feeling such a way that I cant help but relate this all to me
I’d guess I’d want to die somewhere warm too, but I cant think of what holes I’ll wander into
If I ever get out of this one, how many legs would it take to run? Rhetorical question…
Cause I’ve learned my lesson, there is no easy way out, there are no simple answers
See, all these “facts” are just theories, because no one knows why, what planes we’ll burst into
Or whatever our souls do, if you believe that sorta thing, I think space is funny
Because even within me there is so much space, spaces between atoms and spaces between cells
Nothing ever really touches so time is also a guess, and more like a distance
When we propose this strange instance that is reality, you need to have just enough separation
To hold it together, to even observe a shape, and we still yet may never know if there even is a why
Or that’s just what it does, the dimensions above are theoretically endless and unless we are shown wrong
It's known that particles flit in and out of the universe at a whim, if quantum mechanics was a church
I’d be in, cause it’s also a bunch of theories that are really a quest for the truth, if it can be observed
And when I heard that “facts” are stranger than fiction, they’re definitely right, we’re all still existing
In this plane we call the third, but we can ruminate on the fourth, and even manipulate it in metaphors
Seek to remake it so there is no space between us, then we’ll be static, make our wrinkle in this fabric
Last forever, just on the flip side of never, which is honestly another whole big conversation
Because everything and nothing are one in the same, but nothing by its own definition does not exist
I cant even begin to list how many long nights I’ve brooded on this, though everything is still a difficult concept
It’s easier to accept for me, you see I still stumble all over my words, and it’s hard to relate
I hate that I rarely know what to say, but I believe in quantum mechanics
So I must share atoms with other versions of myself
That there’s one of my selves that can breathe fire, maybe
And one who’s the strongest, fastest man on the planet
Even a me that can communicate flawlessly every time no matter what the circumstance or who the person
And if my search is diligent, then there's one of me out there that is ******* brilliant
Because connection is just on the other side of separation, loneliness is just a sensation
An illusion, a confusion, if you can even read this then you can’t truly be alone
Just wonder why and roam
This plane of existence that happens to be home
