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J Jun 2015
Sometimes I like to think that my dogs know me better than anyone else
They listen
They love
But they don't understand do they
No I suppose not
After all how could they possibly comprehend that the incoherent mumbling that they hear at midgnight on what you know will be another sleepless night is you bearing your soul to them
In the words of what is actually the complicated results of thousands upon thousands of years and thousands upon thousands of people making the best efforts they can to communicate and rely the message of what's happening in the theater of our mind where our memories and dreams constantly play
But perhaps my questions have less to do with dogs and their understandings of human language as how human language effects us

Like how one can  be expected to turn something as powerful as the human heart into words on paper
How can the soothing feeling you get when its raining be explained
How could a four letter word express that you would die for someone in a second if it would make them happy
We think of words as the key to the mind when in reality its like looking through a keyhole into the worlds greatest library and hoping to witness all its wonders
Its just gives you the fun house reflection


Human beings are a species dependent on words
We trust that those who we lend our words to won't abuse them, but what guarantee do we have
Their word?
What good is others word when we ourselves have been known to deceive our own using the same weapons
Because that's what words are
Actually let me rephrase that
That's what words can become
And that's the funny thing about them
June 2d
Won't see you;
Can't see you

When all these aged impressions and thoughts
Come back
in waves
Of indescernable grey scale feelings

At midgnight
At a busstop
In short shorts with pockets
Full of excuses for wastes

Won't see you;
Can't see you

when the lines blured
and questions slured
out of our mouths
so pretty
so petty

"Where are you
On this frosted glas backdrop?
Where are your hands?
Can you reach out?
And point me to your lips?"

you didn't see;
you couldn't see

that I sat for hours
before mirrors
trying to place
where I'd seen my face
last

reflected reflections back to the reflection

said you love yourself
said you hate yourself
and I reflected
Fight me and I fight back
But love me and I-

Won't see you;
Can't see you

Motion sick on my way
Yeah, the terrain's too uneven
And it goes too fast,
And I don't know
Where to
What for
For whom?


Because
When all these aged impressions and thoughts
Come back
In waves
Of indescernable grey scale feelings
I get swept under
All alone
Was listening to LE SSERAFIM while revising this ofc

— The End —