How. Will never come close to when. Because every memory made together. Swept us into the timelessness that we provided eachother. It was a fluid river turned rapid. But somehow ended up in the thinning rings of ours irises. Cradled by the sincere promises. Unchained with razor words which cut so deep. We never thought to mend the wounds that kept bleeding trust. A termite that would one day bring down the love we built upon such stable foundation. But the story doesnt end there. Not because our path remained one. Not because we don't know we are supposed to be together. But because of how for a brief period.. We did what so many others will never be able to do. Looking past all the cheesy... All the cliché over the top can't get enough of eachother while taking so many pictures. That one could recount every day for months at a time without missing. A. Single. Frame. No. This tale will go on because knowing paradise for just that small amount of time. Has left a choppy stutter to grow from my throat. Coating the real. Into a reanimated rerun of imperfection. That I have cursed myself to meander upon.. The only thing keeping this tattered mess afloat. Is the knowledge that maybe one day.. Far into the future. I might get a chance to rectify my decision. Maybe one day. I'll make her smile again.
I love you. You owe me nothing and I won't expect you to feel the same if and when we find eachother again...but know that I will always be thinking of you. Always.
What has changed. Surely it must be plain to see. Rooting oneself in anything but this moment. Is one way to certainly spell disappointment. Too many days spent autographing pages. Like a name makes the man. Or perhaps. So that the past can only condemn its owner. Destined to be a heretic of life itself. A hidden transgression cant hurt those it does not reach. Then why is it chained through the bone. Chasing daylight like the moon. Slowly the wound festers deep and driven. Don't you know. These ailments take on a mind for themselves. why else would we create them if not to one day speak. It is the stone that shatters a paradigm. The avalanche brought down by a whisper. Or rather a whimper. Yet there can be no tears here. Not when this creations time was set. Don't be fooled by negligence wearing the mask of ignorance. But first its time to put down the blame. For there is no one else in the room.... ...And that laughing was beginning to irritate.
Can you smell it. The static in the air. Clinging to all it can. As her strength fades too fast. But then Flying always.. Never lasted long enough. Sliding past obstructions like they were excuses. Only stopping to look at the roses when someone else points out their beauty. Yes, they are just flowers. Yet they know rejection more than any person. For they will only get chosen once. But until then they must watch millions of faces go by in silence. Then as they are put to their final use. Some may get placed away for safe keeping. Placed between rows and columns on either side. Windows that can be made into anything. The Pressure is immense. One can only hope to retain form with as little decay as possible. Transforming into the only page without words. Ask the ink if they know the scent to which they will lie down for all eternity. Only there is no answer that would comfort those unwilling to sacrifice. Give up what matters most. Because standing here means it was already done. So what else is there to give. But pages depicting what could not be found. The line to insanity and enlightenment has never been such a blur. Hopefully this trail provides the later. Although if it is not to be. Its doubtful you would remember even asking the question.
any one person can withstand pain. But there is a subtle difference. When it isn't registered.. Like a dream that alludes the recently awoken. For the moment is always questioned as fiction when it comes about. As if building a freeway over the desolation would bypass the isolated incident. With every pass does it become so. And yet it is ever so aparrent. Like a splinter made of ice. For when the initial trauma fades. The cold. Numb. Aftermath. Sets in. Making every other impalement go unnoticed. Picking at old scars with phantom limbs. Visible only to other ghouls. Which have sadly become the only contact available. And neither the shadow nor the image it belongs to are recognizable. And this room full of strangers gains an addition to its ever changing painting. One that will inevitably be painted over. For it has become not only a constant. But a certainty. One that will be upheld. Regardless if this hand helps it. Or not...
Wilted leaves overpopulate the ground. And no tree as far as eyes can perceive. So far from home. So close to anywhere. But here. A statement that can be heard any second of any given day. This moment in time. A random fraction of the incessant routine. Dreaming or awake. It all depends on feel. Not logic. And even then the rules of both worlds must be learned regardless. Who is there to say that one's understanding of the environment is incorrect. Everything down to the information that the eyes process reside in the brain. I think so therefore I am. And yet even this comes into question regularly. The longer one stays in this world. Less and less questions are answered. But one thing can definitely be found regardless of intention. One must learn to swim through the viscous muk of disappointment. To grasp at enlightenment. Or be insane enough to not care. For words can never be unseen. Unheard. Unspoken. Sharper than any blade. Even more blunt than a boulder. Can the wrong words be. Sadly. One cant go through life without first being initiated through pain. And even after its not promised that happiness will follow. With so many eyes weighing down in expectation. Its hard to focus. On any point. Pointless. It may always seem..
I often dream of a faceless queen. We own a small apartment, we laugh, we drink, and spend our time creating art within the four walls of a small room on a large bed. We’d go out with the sole destination of adventure. Make memories together and build a bond never to be severed. I often dream of a faceless queen. One day I hope to wake up from this dream to a Queen, with a smile that’s not so faceless to me.